#and same for orcs could be like they live in the mountains and are rugged and all

[aflamethatneverdies]

i do rly love dungeon meshi so far and i do see that the mangaka is trying to rehabilitate the dnd tropes and make them more thoughtful and less racist and this is not so much a judgement, more an observation, but the dnd tropes originally are so racist that i kinda wish that the mangaka was completely inventing her own worldbuilding instead of building off of them. like maybe at some point we should as a society move away from and throw away dnd tropes in the trashcan where they belong, just a thought you know.

[enola6]

Bearer of the Scar (Azog the Defiler/Reader)

When she was a child , no younger than a few moons, did he first see her.

Over the mountain to the north lived a small settlement of men, and so did her parents. Both merchants of the textile trade that was oh-so booming during the season of winter, when women needed new dresses and men needed new coats.

They loved their daughter , their one and only daughter . But no one knew of the merchants and their travels, that was until they settled down from their travels and made home in the town of Rogendey.

They dwelled in the small cottage alongside the green creek that ran too deep. Their house was small, but so were they with their little trinkets and silks that were hailed all across the race of man. When (y/n) was born, Bruadar and his wife named her (y/n), after the creek that ran near their little house .She was comfortable, and so were her forebears .

Everyday was the same. Bruadar’s wife would awaken, collect the eggs to prepare breakfast ; feed the chickens and horse; prepare breakfast; awaken her son and husband; eat with them; see them off to work; then finally return to the house to nurse her daughter.

And everything was pleasant in their unremarkable lives.

First it was the wandering ranger. He stumbled into the town one morning with his arm torn off and his head in a predicament. The townspeople offered him food and drink, though his lips would not take any of it after he met his maker.

The townspeople grew suspicious . They sent their men and boys, though they could not navigate the foreign pass without a map or compass.

“Orcs I believe,” The merchant said to his wife “orcs from the eastern pass. That ranger must’ve lured them here”.

And on that very night, terror struck.

It was peaceful in the Arden house. The merchant and his wife were asleep , his wife holding the babe in her hand as her son laid on the bed next to them. The fire was out, but the kettle was left on mistakenly by the merchant's son. It was a soundless night, with only small peeps coming from Bruadar’s mouth as he snored.

“The door was torn down and the kettle was shoved to the rug,” was the way the merchant’s son described it, “Mother awoke first, then father. But whatever they must say, I heard it first.”

Bruadar grabbed the sword that he kept underneath the pallet. He rushed in front of his wife, shielding her from any attack that might occur.

“Back away, intruder,” He threatened the orc with the sharp iron in his hand. His attempt was in vain for the orc jabbed the human and hit his sword, signaling he wasn’t going to leave without a fight.

“Stupid men, always so bold, but you will drop like flees !” The orc laughed with his foregin tongue .

“Pega, run for the window ! Take Piwrî and Keander with you!” The merchant called out to his frantic wife. She grabbed ahold of her babe and child, and rushed towards the window.

Her son opened it with his free hands. He looked back at his father , he fought with the orc like a hero would ‘and the hero always wins’ he thought to himself.

“Son, do not look back.” Pega yelled to her child as she hoisted him over the small opening. Though the outside was not as safe as she had hoped. Houses were set ablaze, children were screaming, and orcs ran rampant as they tore into homes of the humbled and stores of the rich. A small cart in the market was tipped over, nearly crashing into Pega and her daughter as she made a run for it.

“Mother watch out !” the boy called to his mother. The boy was too late, for the mother had been stuck by an arrow to the chest and had fallen.

Her babe lay under her as she began to yowl in distress, as a babe commonly does when under distress. The boy lifted his mother’s lifeless corpse and found his sister under her shawl. Oh how perilous her screams were to the boy.

He looked around . The world almost seemed somber for a second. Houses he once knew and loved were being burnt to the ground ,with torches that blazzed throughout the long night that seemed to never come to an end.

“Father…” he cried aloud, holding his dear sister in his grasp. A slight tear rolled off his chin and onto her red face, which found its way into her mouth along with all her other tears. The saltiness was overwhelming and made her yearn for her mother’s milk, something she had not had since eventide. She was a sweet girl, she really was, but at the moment, Keander seemed to detest the role of her elder brother.

Then a blade found its way into his leg. He did not know who it had came from, but he suddenly became aware of the sudden death that had crept upon him, though he was not ready to approach the clouds just yet. He dropped the babe in his hands and fell to the floor, playing dead as the orc came to inspect his victim with his keen eyes. It was selfish, and he knew that. But he wondered if there was any hope for the wailing babe in this state of affairs.

The pale orc took the child in his hands , admiring her intricate beauty as she stopped her wailing to look at him curiously . He stopped for a moment, and for a second he lost his attention to all his surroundings as he stared at her. He became so unaware that he did not notice the merchant creeping up on him to stab him.

The orc screamed in surprise, but the merchant did not harm him with his humanly blade.

He dropped Piwrî, leaving two scratches on her neck from his claws.

“Keander, take your sister to Bree, you have a widowed aunt there,” the father yelled to his son as he began to spar with the attacker.

Then the boy looked upon his father’s attacker with a quivering mouth and eyes that refused to close.“Azog the defiler…” the boy whispered when he caught his sister in his hands .

He ran faster than a horse on foot, only looking back to see his father die, and the orc looking back at him with a sinister smile.

As (Y/N) grew older, her scars never disappeared. The way they were so thoughtfully crafted into her skin seemed to arouse the girl with thoughts of their forming. She would sometimes touch them, her soft fingers tracing the scars the defiler had created. Her aunt grew worried, she made her cover her neck with thick fabrics and scarves made of wool, even in the summer when the sun never ceased to shine.

“Do not show any human the marks upon your neck,” The woman scolded as she stirred the stew in the cauldron “or you will be killed by them, killed by the men who claim to protect you.”

And so she went about her life. Not paying much attention to her scars. She even forgot they were there, but briskly remembered when her brother pointed them out to tease her, as brothers do of course.

“You will wed a man, a traveler from Umbar.” her brother told her one morning after he came home from a hunt. “Perhaps he will like you, even with your scars.”

“How will I wed when I have not even met this ‘inamorato’ of mine” the maiden retaliated with excess grain in her hands that she was using to feed the pigs. She threw some of them at her brother, but the grain just clanked on the iron of his chestplate as it made its passage to the wood floor.

The boy looked upon his sister with false maturity. He thought it appropriate to take her place in the courting process, advertising her to the man he had gambled her away to. He did not wish to make her aware of the way in which he had met Warley Shep, for he had lost his game to him, almost lost his dear aunt’s house but managed to bargain away his sister instead.

The tavern was lively , with barmaids and bards enjoying their drinks with instruments in hand. Though the brothers paid them no attention, Keander couldn’t help but stalk his eyes on one of the barmaids. The barmaid brought her pitcher to Keander’s cup, filling the vessels with pure ale.

“Where will you take her,” the older brother implored. He took another swing of his ale, some drink spilling from the vessel.

“Umbar,” Warley replied, almost seeming annoyed at the dull question. “My home, I promise she will love it.” He then placed his drink on the table, his grip on it tightening as he stored into his new brother’s eyes. “I have heard rumors.” he began to say.

“Rumors ?”

“Rumors that my dear wife has been marked by The Pale Orc, the chieftain of Moria.”

Keander widened his eyes and nearly spat out his drink.

Many thoughts ran through his head at that moment, all which had to do with his dear sister and the night before they had reached Bree. His hands began to sweat and they slipped from his vessel . “You think my young sister has promised herself to an orc?” he jested uncomfortably, his eyes betraying him. “An orc you say ? Oh Master Shep, you jest”.

“Brother ! Master Shep !” the young girl cried from the other side of the tarven. Both of the men turned to look at her, both finding beauty in her appearance. She walked towards them with her arms wide open, a small basket dangling from her hip.

“Sister!” Keander embraced his sister and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek.

“wife!,”

(y/n) looked to her newlywed bridegroom, as he called her name from behind her and expected her head to whip around her head. Her face was much gentler than his, and her hands were fairer for they had never seen an honest day's work. She kept them ungloved, her vanity becoming the best of her.

“We leave tomorrow, in the morning . I’ll come for you at your aunt’s house as soon as the roaster crooks”.

“I will wait for you.”

“And that you must.”

The wooden door opened in the morning. A small kiss was planted on her brother’s cheek as she made her way to her husband’s carriage. Her brother followed her outside, walking in the garden to reach his sister and his new brother. A party of many carriages were lined up in the town square , yearning to return home from the rugged town known as Bree.

To his warm home, where the lake ran deep and the sun never ceased to shine. The fishermen would make their way to the lake, with nets in hand that would return with plenty.

(Y/N)’s face was red as she fiddled with the loose braid in her hair. She pressed her lips together, observing her husband place her bags in the carriage. He did not seem docile or gentle at that moment, or perhaps she was paying too much attention to him, searching for a flaw.

“Sister,” her brother called. His stride was tense and his clothing dirty . He came up from below the driver’s box where she sat oh so anxious and skittish.

“You scared me”, she heaved after giving out a small yelp. Her hand was placed on her heart and her face had become even more red from embrasement . The scars on her neck seemed to burn even more in the moment , but she moved her scarf to cover them.

“Dear (Y/N), did you not hear me announce your name?”

“Do not take me for a fool, dear brother,” she spat sharpley , “you did not call for me.”

“Oh but I did. Perhaps you are too nervous”. He wiggled his eyebrows , though she did not take kindly to his teasing as she brought the wool of the scarf down to gently slap him. “Ow…”

“You are the one who got me into this situation, and you will pay.”

“Wife!” They were both interrupted by the traveler when he took his seat next to (Y/N) in the Driver’s box. He slapped his hand on her knee, to which she annoyingfully raised her leg to drop his. He looked upon her with a galling gaze but paid the small action no mind. “We will go, my brother, and I am afraid your dear sister will never return”.

She gave him a glare. Her life before her flashed through her eyes, her life in Bree where she lived as long as she could remember. But now she was being taken away, by a man who she did not know with every ounce of her being. She detested him, it was their third day of meeting and he was already taking her away.

“Bye, (Y/N)”.

“I love you”,

“And I love you too”.

The horses began to trot, and all the carriages bagan to move, one by one. The town seemed to grow smaller as she kept on looking back in the distance. She grew sentimental , her mind racing with stories and games of her youth.

The trip was boring to (Y/N), but the horses kept her entertained with their braided manes and tails. She felt as if she was counting time all day.

“May I nap in the carriage?” she asked her husband in the afternoon after she had nearly fell asleep on his shoulder, “Please , I have grown tired”.

“Oh course , my wife”.

Her husband spoke, but she did not listen and moved to the hay before he could finish his sentence. She thought it odd that her husband never called her by true name and instead settled for the word ‘wife’. She felt it odd, but perhaps that was because she had never been a wife, and didn’t know how to be one either.

Her nap was soothing with her only disturbance being the yelling of the travelers to each other. Suddenly, the cart stopped and she jolted from her sleep. The curtain of the carriage danced in the wind as it gave (Y/N) a clear view of the outside. She looked around and came to the sudden realization that it was night, with no sign of the sun in sight.

A fire was being started and the women began to warm their hands and prepare food. (Y/N) reached to retie her slippers before suddenly being grabbed from behind. She gasped and began to push away before she heard a low chuckle and recognized the owner of the voice.

“Warley!” she had gasped before pulling away from her husband. He laughed and nearly fell from his sitting position . She placed a hand on her heart and exhaled, relieved that it was him rather than any other man. “You frightened me, I thought-”

“You thought what ?” he inched closer to her, his hand catching onto her blouse before kissing her. He fulled away with a dumb smile on his face, to the young woman, he looked like a fool. She shifted in her position and hugged herself with her own arms, her dress skirt became unanticipatedly interesting as her eyes began to focus on every stitch and pattern. Noticing that she was uncomfortable, her husband twirled one of her loose hairstarand in his fingers before placing it behind her ear.

“You are so beautiful, an enchanting temptress tempting me with every breath you take…” he whispered to her with his hot breath .

He leaned in to kiss her again, his eyes beaming with lust and his lips gleaming with greed.

She then pulled away and grabbed onto the side of her neck, where her scar. An uncomfortable squeal escaped her lips as she held onto her neck.

Her worried husband held onto her shoulders as he tried to calm his wife. He pulled the scarf from her neck and revealed the burning scars in her neck.

“You whore !” he yelled and was about to slap her before a loud roar was heard from the distance.

It was the orcs, and they were here to pillage the camp. But the scar burned so heavily that she was unable to comprehend the screeching and clanking of the swords from the travelers who attempted to protect their camp. “Help me…” she grabbed onto her husband’s hand and watched as he readied his weapons .

He stepped over and made his way from the carriage, as he joined his brothers in battle.

(Y/N) struggled to remain quiet, she stuffed a cloth in her mouth and hopped for the best. Though she knew her attempts would be fruitful, she tried anyway to silence her screams and crush her pain.

Blackish was heard from outside the carriage when a rough hand moved the curtains around. An orc appeared, and he reached into the carriage to try and grab her. She squeaked and kicked his hand away from her.

“Go away.”

The orc grabbed her foot and dragged her out from her safe haven. Oh how frightened she was. To disappear would be such a gift right now. The orc was about to stab her, his knife high in the air. She turned to her side and placed her hands in the air in a lame attempt to shield herself from her attacker. But then the orc stopped, and looked closely at her neck.

<b>“I found her”</b>

<b>“Why did you stop ? kill her!”</b>

<b>“Look at her, she is marked by our master”</b>

<b> “Bring her to him”</b>

The two orcs bickered in a language she could not understand. But then they both looked at her, and she knew she was in trouble. She shifted away from them, trying to crawl away and perhaps grow out of sight.

The taller orc grabbed her by the hair and dragged her towards a larger orc on a warg. She did not see him , for her head was wrapped to face the orcs that were dragging her.

<b>“Why do you bring me this girl?”</b> the larger orc barked at his inferiors .

<b>“We have your treasure”. </b>

The larger orc stepped off from his warg and grabbed the girl from the other orcs. She moaned in pain as tears began to drip from her eyes, she didn’t want to accept her fate, but she gradually did as she waited for the orc chief to pierce a blade through her heart. Her hands remain limp at her sides as she is tossed around like an old rag doll, she fought the urge to punch her orc handler in the face.

She came face-to-face with their chieftain, and suddenly she remembered that old and doomy night that happened long ago. Her eyes widened with fear and he noticed this and smirked with his pale lips.

He lifted her in his hands, bringing her to sit in front of him on his warg.He sensed her fear, and he hungered for it.

<b>“Let’s go.”</b> he commanded his army.

She was uncomfortable. Her hands were limp and she was unable to move.

“Let me go!” She tried to punch the large orc, but he easily caught her hands in his and stopped her from her defective attempt to harm him. His large hand clawed on her neck, choking her for a short while before she started turning purple and blue. “Help me… Dear gods, help me. What have I ever done to offend you?”

She didn’t remember much of the ride to Moria. Only that her body was positioned uncomfortably and that her head was pulled closely to the pale orc’s chest. The Pale Orc, a creature from scrolls and legends that were used to scare children to sleep. Hell, even her own aunt had used stories of the defiler to scare her into the house. “He’ll rip you up, limb by limb. Do you wish to wander at dusk now?”

The woman didn’t realize it, but the warg had came to an abrupt stop which nearly sent her flying off the disgusting wolf. The sudden whiff of air made her cough and she used this as an excuse to fall to the cold floor. It was a stupid plan, it really was. But at the moment (Y/N) couldn’t feel smarter . She ran, but didn’t make it too far before being pulled by her tattered dress by the Pale Orc.

He let out a mighty laugh , and his minions followed in unison. He took his mace and smashed the weak girl’s legs from under him. She yelped out in pain as her tears formed a river to water the daisies beneath her.She thought of many things in that moment, most of it was repentance in ways she had treated her brother.She regretted calling him an oaf, calling him dull or lame…

She tried moving her legs, and cried even more when they wouldn’t move. She continued to cry when she was moved to his tent , or hut, or whatever his quarters were.

He laid her down on her back, so that she could fully see his face. The scars that littered his face were admired by her in full detail as she held a face of disgust. He seemed to view her as a toy, and with a smirk on his face he took her neck in his hands and traced his mark. He enjoyed her pain.

He had searched for her for many years after his attack on Rogendey, her father’s town.

The pale orc touched her bare leg gently. Almost as if he were a husband comforting his needy wife. It was so gentle and unreal, but (Y/N) shook in her place as she felt his carese . He noticed her shaking, and even though her legs were already limp, he decided to twist them even more, making her scream in agony.

<b>“silence,”</b> he grumbled in his blackspeach.

He was large, as perhaps too large for the frightened girl who had never been with a man before. Her husband hadn’t touched her until the previous night, and even then he never succeeded in his goal of fully taking. Sure, he had touched her scandalously here and there , but never had he got to her womanly parts.

As memories of her husband haunted her head. She hadn’t noticed the orc’s knife making its way towards her hand, the blade facing her flesh. “No…” she sobbed and struggled, but her broken legs could only get her so far. It wasn’t long until the knife ate her flesh , and her once beautiful hands were no more.

She yelped when he removed his loincloth. His cock was huge, larger than she had ever imagined one could grow.

He pulled her by the chain that was tightly wrapped around her neck, bringing her attention to his face. She looked just as she did when he picked her up from her brother, with teary eyes and a swollen face from all the crying she had done. Yes, she was a perfect pick for his mate. She would carry his children, whether she liked it or not. Half-orc children were not uncommon , a human could become so corrupted to mate with an orc, some even did it willingly, however, these were few.

His cock rested on her clit. He looked upon the scars that he once left upon her neck and admired his great work of art, there was no need for improvement.

Her eyes shifted to look at his hand ,and if her hands were free from their restraints, she swore she would have smacked them away from her delicate neck, for he attempted to make her scars deeper than they already were. Speaking of, her hands became cold and dirty from lying under her back, she attempted to scratch them, but the rope wouldn’t budge.

“Please…” she whimpered. He looked at her face, taking his attention away from her pussy lips “please be kind…”

He could understand her, though he pretended not to. He laughed, his chuckle being heard all throughout the camp.

<b>“You are to be silent !”</b>

He placed both his hands on her pelvis and looked at her pussy. She seemed needy, as if she wanted to be under him in a helpless state. He knew that she would give in sooner or later, orc cum made human women naturally more submissive after all.

<b>“Your small body will hold the children I force upon you”,</b> He explained to her with madness in his eyes. She only nodded and listened to her master.<b> “Your motherly breasts will leak when I command them to.”</b>

He cock slid into her as she yelped in pain. Blood began to pore from her opening as soon as he began thrusting. He roared and made a mad face , his animalistic ways seemed to take over his mind as drool began to drip on her pussy. She too began moaning as she found pleasure in the act. But he paid no attention to her, only to her pussy that he had been craving for years.

Her creamy breasts bounced up and down, tempting the orc to grab and devour them. He did not see her as a person, alive and well, but as a pussy for him to breed.

She was his mate , and that was all she was going to be.

Her eyes rolled and her mouth would not close. She wanted him fully, and her scar was making her his obedient mate, just as he intended.

“Harder” she moaned as her back arched “Pour your seed into my untouched womb, for I will bear you an army from the eggs of my body”.

He laughed as flipped her over so that her back was to him.

“I am your slave , ripe for the taking”.

His roar was as loud as thunder, and his movement faster than lighting, for the friction from his cock almost made (Y/N)’s pussy burn .

<b>“I love this virgin pussy,”</b> he announced to the rest of his harem,<b> “Fresh and made for my cock”.</b> He continued to thrust into her , while his other hand moved up to her buds . He began to grope her milky tits, awiting her motherly milk to drip from her little buds.

It was then she came down from her high, and began to realize what she had done and she began to cry.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 22: Message- Dwalin x OC

Dwalin x Astrea

Description: After a year of no word from Dwalin, Astrea finally receives a message from him.

Word Count: 1.2k

One year. It had been approximately one year since Dwalin had bravely decided to follow Thorin on a quest to retake the Lonely Mountains. Astrea missed him dearly. Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him or pray to Aule that he was okay. Of course, being so short for time, she knew Dwalin wouldn’t have time to write to her and update her on everything. So, she had to seek comfort in her prayers.

It was quite difficult for her to go on without her husband by her side every day, she couldn’t lie. But she thankfully made do by seeking solace in Dis, who was roughly in the same position as her. And, while the Princess offered her some peace, it didn’t stop Astrea from missing him more and more every day. She desperately hoped that her husband was okay - or, at the very least, alive. But, with things so quiet around the Lonely Mountains, she could only keep hoping and praying.

It had been day 193 (yes, she had been keeping count) when Astrea got a knock on her door. It was considerably early in the morning, the sun having only just started to peek over the horizon, and she knew not a lot of people were out and about at this time. That’s why she was confused as she walked over to the front door. Upon opening it she was greeted by nothing. No one was there, which only served to confuse her more.

She was just about to close the door and shrug it off as the wind when something caught her eye. An envelope sat on her doorstep precisely in the middle of the mud rug. Curious, she bent down to pick it up and examine it. Her first name was written on the front, and there was no sort of return address or anything else that could signal who it was from. After looking over her name, however, she came to a shocking (and exciting) realization: this was her husband’s handwriting. Without a second thought she ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

My Astrea,

Apologies for not being able to write to you sooner, but things have been rather hectic on this side. To make things short, we did it. Smaug is retaken and Erebor is ours for the retaking. That came with the price of war, however, as both Mirkwood and Laketown were after our treasure. Not to mention hordes upon hordes of Orcs that tried to trample on our lands. Fret not, though. Thorin had sent word to King Dain so the armies of the Ironhills aided us in our victory. Thorin, Fili and Kili were severely wounded, but a Hobbit witch managed to keep them alive and their healing process is underway. Other than that, we’re all fine living in the palace of Erebor until further notice.

With all of that out of the way, I’ve decided that I wanted to be the one to share the news that the Dwarves are finally able to migrate back to Erebor. Hopefully I’ve reached you before the messengers did. I expect you’ll probably be amongst the first group of settlers, and I cannot wait to see you again.

Yours,

Dwalin son of Fundin

As Astrea read over the contents of the letter she couldn’t help but tear up. Not only was her beloved husband alive, but the entire Company was and Erebor had been taken back! A wide smile formed on her face as she heard people faintly shouting the joyous news. Looks like Dwalin ready had reached her before the others, he’d be happy to know that. And she couldn’t wait to tell him about it when they were reunited.

Astrea didn’t pack much. She only packed their clothes, weapons, some rations as well as the sentimental things before heading out into the world with the first group of migrants. Since they weren’t constantly in danger it didn’t take them nearly as long to reach Erebor as the Company. It took them only five months in total as it was now just a straight shot to the Lonely Mountains.

Though Astrea had never been there before (having been born after the Dwarves settled into the Blue Mountains), she couldn’t help but join in the excitement that her fellow travelers felt as they grew closer and closer to their home. Perhaps their happiness was just contagious, or maybe she was just excited that she was that much closer to seeing her husband and holding him again, or perhaps it was a mixture of both. No matter what it was, she found herself cheering along with the other migrants as they finally reached Laketown - or, rather, what was left of it. Astrea had been told about Smaug attacking the poor town by Dis, who was also in the first group of settlers, during the journey as Dwalin hadn’t mentioned it in his letter, and her heart went out to Laketown. But, from what she’s heard and from what she saw in Dale on the way to Erebor, they would be okay.

The gates of Erebor had been opened and ready for them to enter. The settlers couldn’t help but gasp in awe, and some of them even began to cry as they looked around while entering the kingdom. And Astrea couldn’t blame them. It was hauntingly beautiful, like it had seen some bad things in the past but the joy in the future would make up for it. It looked a little worn down now, but she knew that once it was up and running properly, it would be one of the greatest kingdoms of Middle Earth.

King Thorin, along with the rest of his Company, stood just a few yards away from the entrance of the (soon to be) mighty kingdom, all with smiles on their faces. It didn’t take the Hobbit long to find her husband. He looked almost exactly like she’d last seen him aside from wearing more casual clothes rather than traveling clothes. Their eyes met almost immediately, and Astrea couldn’t fight back the tears that welled up in her eyes. Without even realizing it she’d dropped the bag she was carrying and made her way over to him, practically sprinting once she hit the halfway point.

Dwalin’s arms were open and ready when she practically jumped into them, embracing him with all her might. A small, happy sob tore from her throat as she clung to him like he’d disappear if she let go. She felt him return the hug as tight as he could without hurting or suffocating her (though she would have died happily in his arms if he did), stroking her hair gently.

“I see you got my message, aye?” He joked softly as they pulled away. Astrea laughed as he lifted a hand to wipe her tears away.

“You could say that,” she answered tearfully with a nod before hugging him again. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“I am too,” he responded simply. It had been a long year and a half away from each other, but now they were reunited and they were safe in the home they were going to build together.

[kendrixtermina]

Assorted House of Feanor Thoughts

I wrote this as a reply to someone, but then realized that this should be a post of its own. 

Line between extrapolation, interpretation & headcanon is going to be fluid here

Long post under cut

The seven sons in general:

all moody, fierce, intense and brilliant, each in various different ways

none of them can really stand to be cooped up in one place for long

F R E C K L E S you will not convince me otherwise

Apart from the ones explicitly described as pretty (ie, Maedhros and Celegorm) they’re actually relatively plain by elf standards, or at least sort of rugged-looking, especially compared to their part-Vanyar cousins - I mean, figures that some would turn out more like Miriel or Nerdanel both of which were supposedly more average.

all are very resourceful having spent most of their lives helping out with their parent’s projects, exploring the wilderness, or (save for Celegorm) hanging out in Aule’s halls. Most can probably whip up a steampunk or magitech solution to basic war-related problems

Because of this they’re a very tight-knit group

growing up, they did not know many children their age; Ironically the most contact they had was with their cousins because Feanor paid semi-regular visits to Finwe. Apart from Turgon (and Orodreth if you place him in the second rather than the third post-journey generation) the cousins really dug the adventure stories. (Galadriel pretended not to be interested and offered plenty of critiques, but listened anyways)

more survival skills and just a lot more casual than your average princes

They’d all been adults for a good while by the time of the rebellion; the twins are a tad older than Aredhel, Galadriel and Argon; Caranthir and Angrod are about the same age. Curufin is younger than Aegnor.

They all look back at that trip to the lightless shore of the outer sea as a cherished family memory

Also I don’t think Feanor disciplined his sons very much after all his own father let him get away with everything. In his eyes the brats can do no wrong especially not Curufin and to a lesser extent Amrod Nerdanel tried her best to counterbalance this and it kind of worked on some of them, but the three middle ones were a lost cause

I think a lot of the weight behind the oath comes from how Feanor made them promise him to see it through on his deathbed. It was his literal last wish.

Maedhros:

The Leader™, the most strong-willed and the deadliest fighter by a huge margin. What the orc under your bed has nightmares about.

Obviously a very competent diplomat, strategist, and the sort to put constructive results over personal glory; resilient, formidable, unpretentious and tough as leather

but not at all overconfident, and the type who is not blind to the flaws of the people he loves. He knows very well that Feanor wasn’t perfect and does many things that his father would not have agreed with - at the same time he has a strong sense of obligation, honor and loyalty which turns out to be his fatal flaw in the end when being loyal and keeping his word  increasingly requires him to do dishonorable things

if there was a definite breaking point it was the fiasco with Dior’s sons

Stoic but courteous and eloquent; From Finwe’s death onwards increasingly grim, grizzled and not very hopeful, though he’s the sort to give his all and try to be noble even when there’s no reward or even thanks or respect.

Despite this, he has as a dry sense of humor and at times uses it to defuse tense situations or disarm people he’s negotiating with (see the scene with Thingol’s message) - does have a streak of gallows humor to him especially after the Thangorodrim incident

As the heir Feanor actually let him in on trade secrets and scientific speculation; Their relationship is probably the most equal; I do think Feanor was capable of actually appreciating that Maedhros got a mind of his own and isn’t afraid to stand up for himself. Feanor values independent thought, even if he’s not always good at really living that value with his tendency to take things personally and see others as taking sides for or against him.  

Can’t really craft stuff to the same degree without his right hand. He then focussed on more abstract/mental pursuits which were perhaps his forte, to begin with but it still bothers him more than he lets on, especially since he still retains, or swiftly regained, his skill at making things dead. 

He may or may not qualify as a cinnamon roll but he definitely looks like could kill you

Maglor:

Maedhros might have been the token responsible sibling, but Maglor was the understanding, comforting one and always had a nurturing streak - hence why he was the one to take in the kids.

Sensitive Artistic Type™ - goes from quirky and passionate back in Valinor to melancholy & tormented as the war drags on

one of those people who despair over & get self-critical over their work even when it’s regarded as masterpieces

Like Feanor and Miriel before him, he tends to get super absorbed in his work/art and just plain disappears for days

Now some ppl hold that he didn’t start having second thoughts until near the end, but judging from how he comes along to Fingolfin’s party or to hang out with Finrod, I’d hold that he was always ‘the nice/gentle one’, but not solely in a positive way; Unlike Maedhros he did not stand up to Feanor about the thing with the ships and indeed lets Maedhros talk him out of turning himself in at the very end, so he’s probably somewhat lacking in assertiveness

Even so, he’s probably one of the better fighters, given the difficult territory he gets, that he’s the one to kill Ulfang, and how long he survives. He probably feels ambivalent about this. 

I imagine him having an agility-based fighting style

Probably codified the heroic epos as a specifically Noldorin art form

Celegorm:

A lot of ppl focus on the barbarian aspect, but I’d say he actually has some degree of ‘subverted prince charming’ going on, with how he sweet-talks Luthien at first before throwing her in the dungeon, and how he seems to have been one of the more accomplished ones, joining a respected order and all

He’s actually pretty elegant and perhaps playfully gallant, but it’s a facade; He’s an animal underneath; though his instincts are probably somewhat nobler than what ends up happening when he gets roped into Curufin’s schemes

usually, the first to react and leap into action when something happens.

Herculean strength, daunting presence

also a fairly efficient general, if a bit of a glory hound and pretty fearless in the pursuit of victory

very much has an ego and doesn’t like being humbled at all

Strikes me as the sort of person who would take badly to the realization that they can no longer return to the glory of the past or being judged unworthy, not that he’d respond with anything but defiance

Wrestles giant monsters barehanded

Always low-key wished to fight creatures of darkness before the rebellion to test his might against them; Orome and the Maiar members of the hunt would have told stories of them

though he gets his pretty face from Daddy, his strong build comes from Nerdanel, possibly somewhat accentuated by his being a dude

Caranthir:

grumpy, moody, no filter, likes his alone time, shows his feelings mostly through actions, also somewhat pragmatic

the quartermaster; Actually one of the smarter ones, if not outright the second smartest after Curufin, though he has more a logistic/administrative sort of intelligence

generally one of the more prosaic, practical family members, or maybe he’s just more subtle about his dramatic side or has a harder time expressing it. Definitely has Hidden Dephts™

I mean, putting your hideout on the slope of a mountain near a deep, dark lake circled by mountains? Goth AF. A+ aesthetic there.

Hosts the family get-togethers at his fortress. Has most certainly shoved Celegorm and Curufin in the lake at some point

has a certain respect for strength, valor and skill even in ppl he doesn’t necessarily like; Not at all diplomatic or polite, but also not finicky or fastidious, so actually forged a whole lot of alliances on a “everyone’s money/swords are equally good and we don’t have to set conditions” basis and seems to have been pretty successful at this

started out haughty but definitely learned to be more open-minded/ broaden his horizon over his time in Beleriand - but as no good deed goes unpunished, Ulfang happens

Whereas Curufin and Celegorm can put up a noble veneer but will totally stab you in the back if provoked, Caranthir’s sort of the opposite, in that he’s rude and quarrelsome on first contact but has a good heart deep down (see the Haladin incident) and doesn’t keep grudges long term once he’s done grumbling where Celegorm is sore loser and Curufin a spiteful twerp.

though personally, I don’t see Caranthir as trying to reign himself in. He wouldn’t really be known as “the harshest” in that case. Who was gonna teach him to behave himself, Feanor maybe? kek. 

Curufin:

We have a lot of actual dialogue & description for him - he has this characteristic little defiant smile, is often coldly contemptuous in tone, some level of ruthless pragmatism

has mild/vague foresight - nothing as impressive as what Finrod and Galadriel have, but he has it more or less to the degree that Feanor did.

actually pretty insightful, thought-through and political-minded in some ways, too bad he shares Feanor’s tendency for unwarranted suspicion and factionalism, as well as a tendency to just act on his own without checking with anyone

always either filthy from work or fully blinged-out and impeccably groomed, no in-between

more calculated and subtle than Feanor - not that Feanor ever needed calculation or subtlety since he could get by on sheer awe or intimidation. Celegorm and Maedhros have that same quality in spades and Curufin’s a little bit jealous

Not actually that much older than the twins, but always acted older than his age, especially once he heard that Feanor was the same

collects weapons, loves fancy horses, the most traditionally aristocratic of the seven

Got married relatively young; saw it as a matter of honor to further his family’s line

continued his scholarly pursuits in Beleriand; this is part of why he elected to share a territory with Celegorm

The last Celebrimbor ever heard of him was a magically sealed box filled with research notes he sent out in case he didn’t make it out alive

Did not take his parents’ estrangement well and is stubbornly salty toward Nerdanel (though deep down he misses her as much as his brothers if not more)

Frequently the Bad Influence/ Shoulder Devil to his brothers.

But when he gets excited about his research/craft he’s got this “exited cocky little boy” side to him that’s surprisingly pure. 

Only Nerdanel and possibly Celebrimbor’s mom are allowed to call him ‘Atarinke.’ His brothers might still use it when they’re teasing or scolding him. 

The Twins:

Every time a fic does something else with them than “generic prankster redheads” I cry with joy

We don’t have that many data points on them, but most of them suggest they’re every bit as fierce as their brothers

they’re somewhat aloof & mostly do their own thing;

As kids they’d mostly sit in a corner and play with each other. Possibly deliberately played up their identicalness as a kind of emo fashion statement / to fuck with people (”Should we do this Ambarussa?” - ”I don’t know, what do you think, Ambarussa?”)

never really gave up their semi-nomadic ways

Compared to Celegorm they probably more on stealth and precision than strength and bravado. They suddenly appear in front of you, and bam! You’ve got an arrow poking out of your face. Probably the ones scouting the perimeter of the camp.

Amras is a bit sassier, but it’s actually Amrod who’s a little bit braver.

Hardly ever argued until their parents’ estrangement; That led to quite a few quarrels between them.

For all his faults, Feanor made a point of doing things with each of them individually.

quietly nursing some level of pent-up despair and frustration until they push for the assault on Sirion

In the version where one of them dies, and then no one ever talks about it, - I imagine that the remaining one ended up cynical in a “let’s just get it ever with we’re already doomed after all’ kind of way

Bonus:

Celebrimbor

“Curiosity killed the cat but the second mouse gets the cheese” incarnate. He’s a sweet, excitable,  deeply good guy, but Curiosity is the strongest force within him, besides maybe “think of the potential”

very bold in his thinking, not held back by any conventional boundaries. This is partially why he ended up more independent than his father and uncles but ironically that might in a sense make him more similar to grandpa than any of them

Really looks like Feanor. Like, Arwen and Luthien level of resemblance. It takes ppl a bit to notice because of how different his general demeanor and surface-level personality is. 

Very scattered and absent-minded, prone to sudden flashes of inspiration, often shows up in some form of disarray

spent his adolescence at Formenos. Retained a certain affinity for wintery places ever since

He sensed something fishy about Sauron before long, but between wanting to avoid the family propensity for unwarranted suspicion and being tempted by all the possibilities of what he could do with that power/knowledge even if it did come from a fishy source, he didn’t act before it was too late - he can't have been fully clueless since he hid the three; There was definitely just a bit of actual seduction/forbidden fruit appeal in place there, whether to use the word “hubris” probably depends on your philosophy. 

He drops the ‘th’ once he renounces Curufin, but slips right back into the old habit when excited or exasperating. At some point during his rule of Eregion, he stops bothering to hide it - A similar thing happens when he’s talking Sindarin with his northeast Beleriand accent. 

I know this is a very popular old hat headcanon, but... His other name is also “Curufinwe”. Everyone called him Telperinquar from the start, lest all three come running and grumble about being distracted from work, but after the Nargothrond debacle, he had other reasons for not using it. But really, Telperinquar/Celebrimbor is just another more metaphorical way to say “this baby shall be good at working with his hands” so yeah

My HC for where he was between the Finrod incident and the second age is as follows: He departed for war with Gwindor’s troupe (this is someone who tried to engineer a way around entropy - not a “do nothing” sort of guy) and fled the battlefield with Turgon. (hence some of the passages that place him in Gondolin can still be made to work. He totally made Earendil’s baby-sized mail coat) He fled with Idril’s party. Had she not tipped him off somehow he would probably have died with the rest of the smith’s guild. Or perhaps he grabbed all the valuable records he could find and ran for it because someone needed to preserve them. As living surrounded by the survivors of Doriath would have been awkward to say the least, he went to the isle of Balar to offer his skills and service to Gil-Galad. This is where he befriended/ reconnected with Galadriel and Celeborn. 

Finrod once told him the “faithful stone” legend from Brethil. It would be an inspiration to him much later. Generally credits Finrod with being a good influence on him. 

Judging by the stars on the doors of Durin his stance on his family probably softened over the years. He essentially attained their original new dream of exploring distant lands and building unparalleled new realms, at least for a while - also definitely has a similar “screw destiny!”/ “I defy you stars!” attitude. Perhaps he wanted to see their vision done right. 

But on some level, I think he also wanted to associate himself with their fame eventually especially once his own accomplishments grew. His feelings were probably always very ambiguous because he must have admired and envied their great works but also lived getting weird looks whenever he did what he’s best at and loves doing most in the world because it associates him with these very ambiguous people whom many hated... at one point in the past he must have really admired his father and grandfather, I mean, he came with them across the sea. 

Nerdanel

She got Feanor the apprenticeship / gave him the idea after they met on their travels. 

Were seen as something of an eccentric hippie/ hipster couple in the early days

She’s tough, confident and definitely quipped/ yelled back at times. Definitely described as ‘strong-willed’ and individual. Like this was a ‘kindred spirits’ thing before everything went to hell

it counts for something that even during the ugly bitter parting scene the worst Feanor could say was “someone must’ve turned you against me because you definitely cared once” rather than “you’re a traitor” for all that everything else in that scene made him very punchable

Their relationship dynamic, as I see it, is that she’s the one person who just sees and treats him like a normal dude. No apprehension, no fawning. He’s not “the greatest” or a tainted aberration to her, he’s simply a like-minded friend. So she’s pretty chill about his idiosyncrasies and doesn’t see them as a big deal, but on the other hand, she’s not overawed and will not take bullshit

Since she is good at understanding people she probably usually gets where he’s coming from even when he’s not being reasonable

possibly invented abstract art; was most certainly influential. 

the elves who serve Aule probably have their own little traditions. She might’ve imparted some of those on her descendants

Also ppl tend to forget that she also does metalwork. Again, it’s quite possible that she got him into it and that if they’d never met, he might have landed in a completely different discipline

I think it says a lot about Feanor that he chose her for being smart, creative and independent-minded. It shows that he actually values these things and that it’s not just a rhetorical device;  he’s not a hypocrite, he failed at what he was genuinely trying to aim for. 

She had Finwe won over the moment she mentioned that she likes children. To Feanor’s chagrin, she proclaimed that his then-tiny half-siblings were the cutest thing ever but since he was trying to impress Nerdanel, he actually kept his composure there. 

She was totally buds with Earwen and Anaire. 

I really like those fics where she played some part in the reconstruction efforts. She’s already renowned for her wisdom and has some familiarity with the court, so why wouldn’t Finarfin make her an advisor? 

Miriel

She was described as having “silver” hair like what the teleri sometimes have, but that was for lack of a better world. It’s actually pretty close to pure white. It was an unprecedented anomaly. Celegorm got it. Though overall Maglor might be the one who most looks like her. Or maybe Caranthir. 

Well, her tendency to refuse to eat her words no matter what has certainly proven highly heritable

Canonically one of those ppl who talks very fast 

Feanor doesn’t look very much like her at all, but he talks like her and is similar in his body language etc. The shape of her hands, however, has made it all the way to Celebrimbor in an unbroken line. Maglor’s got em too. 

She was the only one of her family to make the great journey. That’s why “the names of her kin are not recorded”. You see, they tried to convince her not to go, and that only made her more determined. 

Miriel and Indis used to have this thing where Miriel would sing while Indis plays the instrument. First time Indis caught Maedhros and Fingon doing something similar she got very emotional about it. She told them how she and Miriel also used to have a sort of odd friendship despite their opposite looks and personalities. Maedhros had at this point never even heard that they used to be friends. She proceeded to tell him some fun stories from Miriel’s youth and encouraged the two to spend time together. 

We’re told that Miriel and Finwe only got together in Valinor; Since Indis had a thing for him since before the Vanyar moved out of Tirion it’s fully possible that Indis actually liked him first. Maybe she actually introduced them to each other, like she wasn't confident enough to ask him on a date so she brought her friend, only for the two to be immediately smitten with each other. Poor Indis decided that she had no chance and moved out of town when Ingwe did. 

Miriel definitely expresses her love/admiration in the way of “You! You’re perf! I must make art of you!”

Since his arrival in the halls of Mandos, Feanor has made several of Vaire’s Maiar cry with his critique of their tapestries, but he holds that his mom’s are best. 

Feanor himself

In general, I hold that while he said many things that were not right, there’s a lot of what he prophecied that was not quite wrong and does come true in a kind of way, even if not necessarily for himself and his family. They sort of pave the way as Promethean figures. The second mouse gets the cheese (it’s usually some Nolofinwean)

Though he’s also the ultimate example of “you are not immune to propaganda”. Literally the smartest man in the world; Still touchy enough to be an easy mark for emotional manipulation. 

I think a lot of ff undersells what a polymath he must’ve been and that part where he worked on many different topics and was “the most learned”. 

You know the type of author who has a bazillion unfinished wips going and jumps wildly from topic to topic? Feanor’s research notes are exactly like that, especially the tendency to disintegrate into cryptic jottings and notes right before the most interesting part.  Just like the unfinished texts from HoMe Just like Gauss or Euler, having invented everything a hundred years ahead and 40% more discoveries buried that he never felt ready to publish. (I can also definitely see the sons – especially Maedhros and Curufin – spending the better part of the siege of Angband compiling some of it into a presentable format. Celebrimbor would then be the one to stumble upon implications /corollaries that had somehow been missed for thousands of years. 

For all that I enjoy fics where they’re all smoll and adorable as much as the next person, canonically we’re given every indication that he was an adolescent or young adult by the time the remarriage occurred. The published silm has him “well-nigh full-grown” by the time Indis started having kids; In the HoME passage detailing the romantic meeting on the mountain it’s said that he was “wandering in the mountains” (ie, old enough to do so on his own) at the time. He moved out as soon as he could, so he and his half-siblings never actually spent any significant time in the same household

I mean, he reacted like a teenager would, and IMHO neither his character nor Finwe’s make any sense if this wasn’t a single parent situation early on. 

Personally, I really don’t like that headcanon that he was nicer to the sisters for no reason. I don’t think his relationship with Fingolfin was ever much better than the sort of “awkwardly tolerating” we saw at the reconciliation scene; At the same time, I don’t think things would ever have escalated to that degree if Melkor hadn’t gone mucking things up. 

In the same vein, I don’t think he always had beef with the Valar. He used to hang out in Aule’s halls and let Celegorm study with Orome after all and studied their language. - he certainly seems to have had some romanticism for the Hither Lands evident in his speeches, he traveled far past the well-lit areas, made crystals that shine in starlight etc. so he was probably always somewhat independent-minded and he certainly knew, better than anyone, that the Valar are imperfect and can’t fix everything (they couldn’t heal Miriel after all) - but it’s a long way from healthy skepticism and understandable disappointment to asserting bad intentions where there are none. 

There’s a long way between not wanting a relationship with someone, and pointing stabby objects at them. Feanor was always difficult and never the type of person to be easily satisfied but at the same time, he clearly had his “delight” in his work and life as it was pre-Melkor. He could’ve gone on as an inventor and author of strongly worded opinion pieces; perhaps the elves were even “meant” to go back & come into contact with the Edain for a brief while, just without all the murder. 

The thing about Melkor’s lies is that they made a complicated situation conveniently easy in a way that he (and Fingolfin!) would want to believe. It’s not really either of their fault that they both exist, but if your rival is actually out to get you then suddenly all your negative feelings are justified 

Personally, I don’t think it the remarriage made that much of a difference - Miriel would still be dead. What Feanor’s really mad at is the inherent unfairness of the world. But he can’t fix or fight that, so in a misfire of his engineer’s mindset that thinks in terms of simple cause and effect and wants the world to be logical and controllable, he blamed something tangible (Indis.)

I think Melkor hates him so much because he’s kinda what Melkor wishes he was or likes to think he is. They’re both the mightiest of their respective kinds and don’t really fit in, but Feanor’s actually extremely creative. He goes and does his own thing, and maybe errs in overlooking that no man is an island and that all works are built on those of others, but, look at Melkor who wants all the scale of a group project but none of the “cooperation” part and basically can’t make anything of his own. “You’re like me, yet you’re successful? I cannot allow it!” 

In a sense you have classic Satan and Miltonian satan in the same setting, and they can’t stand each other

[g00dberry]

this is me asking about your campaign

Anon, I am so fucking glad that you asked. Alight kiddies strap yourselves in and get ready to hear the story of Fortune’s Favor cause this is the hyper-fixation to end all hyper-fixations for me right now. (BTW, all art for the party members was done by @Tallinier on Twitter! She’s amazing and you all should go check her out right now!). Anyways:

See that? That’s Ar’De. The main continent that our D&D campaign takes place on. You might have noticed that huge white sprawl right in the middle there. That’s called The Conflict Zone. That also happens to be the name of our campaign itself, The Conflict Zone.

The Conflict Zone is an area of the continent that has existed since the dawn of recorded history. It has always contained things that do not make sense and is home to creatures not of the material plane. The topography of it is constantly shifting, changing, re-arranging. It is impossible to map out. Portals to thousands of other realms are constantly opening and closing within its borders, and creatures from these other realms have recently begun to take notice of these portals in larger numbers. The Orcs, Humans, Elves, and Dwarves have all made a pact to do their best to contain this threat on their shared borders, but something is happening... While the shared governments are trying to keep it under wraps, The Conflict Zone is expanding. More and more things are coming through those portals, and those who live closest to it have been facing grave dangers and strange occurrences more and more lately.

However, our story doesn’t begin with The Conflict Zone. It actually begins with a man. A man known only as Gaust. 20 years before the events of this campaign, a powerful man known as Gaust led a violent uprising centered in the human country of Empiria that killed many people. Gaust himself supposedly had powers that were evil and astounding. On top of his own abilities, he had the power to give other people arcane abilities. It was said that his mere presence was enough to make those around him just as bad as he was. However, nobody really knows for sure, as nobody ever claimed to have truly met the man in person. That is, until the current king of Empiria, Ryborn Hauzer -

(That guy) - slayed Gaust himself, and put an end to his 5 year reign of terror. Things were pretty okay for 20 years after that, and that’s where our heroes meet each other.

Why don’t we get to know our heroes? They’ve recently started to garner a reputation for themselves, and have decided to call their little group Fortune’s Favor (It’s a miracle none of us are dead yet, so we’ve gotta be somewhat lucky, right? Right?). They weren’t always a recognizable group of heroes though. In fact, they started out sleeping in the haymow of some guy’s barn, just outside the human capital of Union. With only a few coins to their name and a shared goal of joining the legendary Pathfinder’s Guild for various reasons, they decided to team up to try and earn some coin together, attempting to get past the nasty 500 GP application fee to even try out for the Pathfinders.

But enough about that, why don’t we finally talk about these lovable losers?

First up is Sarrali Farseer, a Tiefling Hunter Ranger 5 / Wild Magic Sorcerer 2:

Sarrali found herself designated as the leader of the group rather quickly which was really concerning for her (especially considering that she’s the youngest at the ripe age of 21!). She’s never seen herself as much of a people person. She grew up on the rugged streets of Vandis, Empiria’s military capital in the harsh North. With her human mother in mental institutions, her father completely unknown, and a childhood full of horribly unfortunate mishaps and distrust from others due to her Tiefling blood, Sarrali grew used to the idea that her father might actually have somehow been the god of shadow, twilight, misfortune, and chaos - Vayn. After deciding to ditch civilization entirely at the ripe age of 16 with only a pewter charm of a bird in flight left by her mother to her name, Sarrali fled South to the Northern forests of Empiria with no idea how to survive on her own. She was found and taken in by an old human bounty hunter, Mordecai Swift, who taught her everything he could before he met his untimely demise at the hands of some slaver pirates when Sarrali was 18. Out for vengeance, Sarrali made the unwise decision to try and take on an entire camp of slavers on her own after finding her master’s decapitated head not too far outside the camp. She managed to take down 7 of them all on her own before she was captured. She spent a horrific month in a Port Des’Sali warehouse run by the cruel leader of the slaver pirates, a wretched dragonborn named Bodac the Blue. Sarrali survived many horrible things, including torture and receiving a mysterious brand on her right shoulder blade before she and all of the other slaves were freed when a mysterious man entered the warehouse one day, the right half of his body glowing with red flames. He proceeded to torch the place, ripping Bodac’s head clear off his body, and burning right through the cages holding the slaves. Sarrali ran away from the others and spent the next 3 years working for a morally decent smuggling ring in Port Des’Sali, recovering and steeling herself for the future. She had heard that some people believed the gods themselves might reside within The Conflict Zone, and she finally wanted to confront Vayn. Unfortunately for her, the only ones allowed within The Conflict Zone were high ranking Pathfinder guild members and other decorated soldiers. So, she had no choice but to arm herself with her master’s hunting knife, her trusty bow, and head out to Union to achieve her goals. 6 months down the line and things are going arguably well for Sarrali. She’s got people who care about whether she gets out alive at the end of the day, she’s started learning some ritual magic (including how to cast Find Familiar). She returned to her supposed birthplace, a mountain town named Overlook, in search of her mother and discovered that she has an older sister, a tiefling named Brandia.

She also discovered that she was apparently human when she was born, as was her older sister. She learned that her father apparently wasn’t Vayn, but instead a human man known as Jaxon Farseer. Someone who’s family line is millenia old. Full of heroes, legendary dragon riders, and masterful archers. Her father disappeared shortly after her birth, and her mother apparently made a deal with a tall dark man who appeared in her dreams, allowing him to give her and her children his “blessing” to ensure that Jaxon would one day be rescued. Her mother accepted, and was immediately cast into madness as her daughters were changed in ways she couldn’t imagine. Odd, Sarrali’s been seeing a tall dark man in her dreams as well recently. In fact, he keeps telling her she’ll be the one to end the world someday, and he gifted her the use of Wild Magic... Hm.

Next up is Teael of house Arren, a Half-Elf Grassland Druid 5 / Hexblade Warlock 2:

Teael is the bastard daughter of Chancellor Arren, a noble High Elf who lives down river from the Spring of Len. Teael Is an incredibly caring person, though her childhood was very lonely. Her step mother was kind, teaching her druidic magic like any of her other children, but her step sister was cruel to her and her father was rather indifferent, refusing to tell Teael anything about her birth mother. Tired of spending her life being ignored and mistreated in what was essentially a gilded cage, Teael fled her father’s estate and headed North with something to prove. Through fate or misfortune, she ended up at the same barn as Sarrali and decided to stick close to the rugged tiefling girl who seemed to know her way around a weapon a little better than she herself did. 

6 months later and 24 year old Teael has sort of adopted Sarali as the little sister she never had. The two get along well and care for each other in ways they haven’t really had the chance to experience before. Teael finally has someone who will stand up for her, and Sarrali has someone who cares about how she’s really doing. Someone who wants to help her through the trauma she’s endured. Someone who cares. One of Teael’s main points of interest is that she somehow possesses the ability to summon 2 familiars at once. A grumpy large blue gecko named Nigel and a posh white Weasel named Eloise. On a rather.... improvised trip to the Shadowfell, Teael recovered the mangled body of a Drow servant who called her Lady Velodora (which also happens to be the name of the Goddess of Darkness, Death, Sleep, and the Moon... She’s also one of Vayn’s twin sisters!). After escaping the Shadowfell, Teael paid a good amount of money to have her new friend attended to by a revolutionary doctor and a high level cleric. The Drow has made a decent recovery, but is suffering from horrible amnesia. So, Teael gave him the name Vega. 

He later proved himself to be a rather accomplished wizard. He lives on a plot of land owned by Teael now, and he restored a broken down wizard tower there. His favorite pastimes include listening to Teael sing for him, reading, and studying new arcane affects. He isn’t the only friend Teael’s made recently though. On a mission into Orc territory, Teael recovered a strange black rod. After a dream that the party still doesn’t really know all the details of, Teael’s got a wicked looking new quarterstaff, and seems to have made some sort of deal with a woman (entity?) named Ebony. Before we set off on our latest adventure, Teael wrote to her father for the first time since leaving his estate to boast about how fine she’s doing on her own, and is eagerly waiting to hear back from him. She’s also a complete bi-sexual disaster, but the party loves her anyways. Oh, and one last thing. She also learned that if people found out who her mother was, she’d supposedly be killed on the spot. So that’s fun!

Third up is Rhak,  a Dragonborn Bear-Totem Barbarian 5 / Champion Fighter 2:

Teael and Sarrali met up with Rhak once they were already knee deep in a mission back in Union. They needed some extra muscle, and just happened to see a very stocky dragonborn writing something down in a book and petting a small kitten on their way into the sewers. His common wasn’t that good, but he seemed so happy that someone had offered him work without being mean that he decided to protect his new friends on the spot. He’s been with the group ever since. Rhak was the runt of his litter back in the Dragonborn territory of The Free Isles. Though he still exemplified the traits that the Platinum Dragon, Bahamut, tried to preach. Rhak had never really been one to turn to violence. He preferred to read and try talking through his issues with others. Unfortunately for him that meant that he was bullied mercilessly as a child. Though the kindness of a half elf woman named Lucia, a sorceress in the Free Isles seeking the wisdoms of the Platinum Dragon, inspired him to stick to his own ideals. One day, when he saw some bullies picking on a much younger runt, he accidentally let his anger get the better of him and ended up killing one of the bullies. Thus, he was exiled from his homeland at the age of 15. Forced to wander parts of the world that he was tragically unfamiliar with, places where he was seen as an oddity, and forced to live a cripplingly lonely life. Lucky for both him and us, we found each other though, and he’s finally got true friends that care deeply for him.

Though he had to leave his lovely kitten friend Steve at an orphanage in Union before we set out on a larger adventure, Rhak is going strong today. He has a bear spirit named Ursula that gives him the strength to protect his friends and keep pushing forward. After an untimely demise in the stomach of a Rhemorahz, Rahk was saved by a very close Revivify and brought back. Though, not before he got to have a nice chat with Bahamut himself. Bahamut explained to Rhak that he was Silver Prime, and that he needed to help usher in the era of The New King if the world was to be saved from calamity. We were already carrying a dragon egg with us (taken from a bunch of kobolds months ago in some old mine). But after breaking open an artifact from the Shadowfell, the egg was transformed. After reaching Sarrali’s hometown of Overlook, we learned that it was home to The Roost. The former breeding ground of Empiria’s human-allied dragons. However, The Roost had been destroyed years ago in Gaust’s uprising, and the only dragon left there now was a Silver Dragon named Orphyrah. She gave Rhak her blessing, explaining that she needed to sacrifice herself if he was supposed to reach his true potential as silver prime. She breathed all of her life essence into a single scale necklace, which Rhak now wears and can use to call upon her spirit in times of need. While at The Roost, we were able to hatch the new king of the dragons, a platinum hatchling named Justifax. Rhak has been tasked with protecting him and uniting the other primes, and he seems to be taking that duty very seriously. Only time will tell how Rhak’s destiny affects the fate of the world...

Last but certainly not least, we have Theren Greybend. A Human Knowledge Cleric 7:

Theren is the newest member of our group. We quite literally ran into him while fighting for our lives in the North recently, while on our way to Sarrali’s birthplace. Theren is a cleric of Magus, the God of Magic, Knowledge, and Secrets. The rest of the party doesn’t know too much about him yet, but we were in desperate need of a healer, and he got to witness the hatching of a new Dragon king with us, so he’s kind of stuck with us at the moment. Theren is a huge book nerd. He craves learning about any and all strange anomalies, and agreed to travel with the party on the pretense that we seem to run into stuff involving The Conflict Zone (his research specialty) a lot. We’ve basically become his latest research project, but that’s alright. He seems nice enough, and wants to help in any way that he can. Theren recently revealed that he possesses the odd ability to connect telepathically with a willing creature once a day, but who knows what else this guy can do? As far as we can tell, Theren is from one of the Western parts of Empiria, rather close to The Conflict Zone itself. 

Now finally, you might be wondering: Alright, but how did all that crazy stuff start?

Well, the intro arc was far too long to append on to this post, but let’s just say that in an unfortunate mix up involving Dynamite, Sewer Zombies, and a Burning Lighthouse. Our rag tag group was pinned as prime suspects, and then later were offered a deal by this shady motherfucker - 

Ekkard, the right hand man to the King of Empiria. If we could investigate those three issues for him on the down low, he wouldn’t just waive our Pathfinder application fee, he would ensure that we were accepted, and would become one of the King’s personally invested in teams. Of course, he didn’t give us much of a choice, since he told us we had a month to figure it out or face exile from Union as a cautionary action. 

So, on the job to clear our names and earn our stripes, we faced down more zombies, a flesh golem, an assassin, terrorist threats, bandits, exploding zombies, a re-kindled uprising of Gaust, and finally a huge bone serpent to save the city of Union and earn our freedom. 

Long story short - we succeed, and thus, Fortune’s Favor was born.

-I’m always down to talk about this campaign, so if anyone has any other questions, please don’t hesitate to send them.

@icarus-undying (Teael’s Player)

[dandstories]

Portia Thorngage

ACT 1.

1. STATUS QUO - THE ORDINARY WORLD.  The hero is introduced sympathetically so the audience can identify with the situation or dilemma.  The hero is shown against the background of an environment and personal history.  Something in the hero’s life is pulling in different directions and causing stress.

Portia Thorngage jumped off of her war pony. A halfling couldn’t handle a full sized horse, no matter how rugged she was. She looked out at the town where she would be arriving come nightfall. Cities gave her a nauseous feeling, but today she would have to overcome that fear, the world may have depended on it.

Portia was unlike most halflings. Her family had been lost to her at a young age. They were attacked by a brute squad, comprised mostly of half-orcs when leaving a trading depot. Even though her family had been well liked in the town, halflings have a reputation for sticky fingers, and some valuables had gone missing. The brutes had attacked during the night, and Portia had slipped away before anyone noticed. She had run into the mountains and lived off the land, lonely and afraid for years.

Eventually, she had been taken in by the Broken Fang tribe, a group of barbarians that lived in the mountains west of Barbar. They had assumed she was just a small child, but her diminished stature entertained them to no end. Nevertheless, they trained her and raised her as one of their own. She had become a skilled warrior, though none would expect such ferocity from such a little person. She stood at almost 3 feet tall, and her brown eyes twinkled when she was excited. She kept her hair in braids and wore bright colors under her leathers, as an ode to her lost family. When relaxed, her smile was a calming sight, but when threatened, she was a force to be reckoned with. She could wield a sword twice the length of her body and could fly into an uncontrollable rage when provoked.

2. THE CALL TO ADVENTURE.  Something shakes up the situation, either from external pressures or from something rising up from deep within, so the hero must face the beginnings of change.

For as long as she could remember, Portia had been avoiding cities. Today was a different matter. Her tribe had called on her to represent them at a meeting of the villages of Egalitia. The castle at Easkerton was something to behold, even for someone who hated the crowds and the stink that any city had to offer. At noon, she heard the bell of the chapel sound, and she headed into the castle to begin the meeting. As she was walking, an elf bumped into her. She caught the wrist of the elf and looked up into her eyes. “Watch it, elf. A rouge could lose a hand in the wrong pocket.”

The elf looked back in disbelief like she had never been caught before. Portia was smart enough to not carry coins on her person. She had a secret spot in her scabbard to hide her valuables. The elf flitted away before Portia noticed something weighing her pouch down. It was no longer empty. The elf hadn’t been trying to steal something, she had slipped something to Portia. As Portia settled into her spot at the conference table, she looked at what the elf had given her. It was a coin, with a compass rose embedded on it. Portia studied it as the meeting began.

A well-dressed human stood up to address the gathering. “We have no time to dilly-dally, time is of the utmost importance. I am Margaret Cromwell of Adonia. I have traveled to the West, and I am here to tell you that the rumors are true. A dark force has taken hold of most of the lands. A leader who calls himself Mnathix the Destroyer is claiming responsibility, and threatening to sweep all of Egalitia under his control. We are free people, and cannot allow such a cruel thing to take that away.”

Delegates from around the table began to murmur and then argue. No one knew what to do. The warriors wanted to call every able-bodied citizen to arms, the wood elves wanted to leave, the wizards wanted to go consult their runes. Portia sat and observed. There were a few people keeping quiet, other than her. The elf she had run into earlier twitched her fingers as if she couldn’t stand to sit still this long. She had a way of fading into the shadows whenever attention turned in her direction. She clearly didn’t want to be here. A surly elf druid sat between two very outspoken gnomes. The druid looked frail and annoyed. One of the outspoken gnomes was a famous performer named Piroulette the Magnificent. She had a way of derailing any progress, almost on purpose. The gnome on the other side of the druid had a lute and would start playing songs anytime he thought one related to the topic at hand. At one point, he started singing a song about the winds of change and which way the compass points

“North is not always the way to go,

The truth the Compass will always show,

The points they meet after dark

The golden compass leaves a mark”

The mention of the compass made her think of the coin she had been given. She returned to examining it. She realized it was not a regular gold coin, but specially made to be used at an inn here in Easkerton.

That night, after the meeting had adjourned Portia decided to go look for the inn that matched the coin. The streets were crowded near the castle but thinned out as she wandered farther. Soon she came across an inn with a compass rose sign hanging above the door.

3. ASSISTANCE - MEETING THE MENTOR.  The hero comes across a seasoned traveler of the worlds who gives him or her training, equipment, or advice that will help on the journey.  

She pushed the heavy wooden door and walked into a dim room. The fire flickered lazily in the hearth, and the candles burned low. The room she was standing in was a restaurant, with rooms for rent above. In the corner of the room, sitting around a table were the rogue, the druid, and the two gnomes from the meeting. They were all sitting quietly, whispering when Portia walked in. The rogue looked up first and smiled a grin that was very uncommon for elves. She waved Portia over like they were old friends.

Portia was hesitant but knew she could defend herself against this motley crew, so she joined them at their table. The druid, looking sullen, spoke up.

“Thank you for joining us. I knew you would find your way. I am Saria, and these are my,” she looked begrudgingly at the others “my companions. We have been waiting for you.”

The others introduced themselves. Pastoralan the Windswept, the rogue with a name as silly as her smile; Piroulette the Magnificent, the gnome Portia had recognized; Peregrine, the bard, who Portia immediately didn’t trust.

“Its lovely to meet you all,” Portia said sarcastically, “But why am I here? I don’t have time for social calls. I am representing my tribe at this meeting, and that is all.”

Piroulette grinned a grin only a gnome could manage. It was sly and convincingly charming at the same time. “We have solved the problem already. We are putting together a party to go deal with Mnathix. Most of the people at this meeting couldn’t handle the challenge, and we can’t have a hundred people headed off to attempt to stop him. That’s why we created distractions all day. The people will be fighting for weeks over what to do. You are here because we need strength. Pastoralan and I are quick and sneaky, Peregrine has vast stores of knowledge, and Saria has a special set of skills that can help to protect us.”

Portia looked at the group. It was small, the druid looked as if she would break under the weight of her own shoulders. The bard had a goofy grin and glassy stare. Pastoralan didn’t look like much of a rogue. Only Piroulette looked like she could be useful battling a foe. “Not a chance. The lot of you want to go fight the most powerful monster this world has seen in a thousand years? Do you have any idea what he is capable of? I have seen the monsters he has under his control, I’ve fought them. Mnathix is far too powerful for you to defeat.”

“That’s why we need you,” piped in Pastoralan. “Your strength and ferocity are known. You have exactly what we need to defeat him.”

Portia sighed. She had been yearning for an adventure. Her home had grown tiresome, fighting the same tribes over little bits of land, and no place to show her skill. An adventure would be a nice change, and she had been thinking of going after Mnathix anyway. She could always ditch these fools and join up with a stronger crew later. She gave a slight nod of agreement to the group and sat down. “So what is the plan?”

The newly formed adventuring party planned well into the night. They laid out their route and discussed tactics, made a list of supplies and decided to set out in the morning. The sooner they left, the better. Finally, as the fires died out, they each headed off to their rooms.

4. DEPARTURE - CROSSING THE THRESHOLD. The hero commits to leaving the ordinary world and enters a new region or “special world” with unfamiliar rules and values.

Morning came soon enough, and she met with the rest of the party on the outskirts of the city. They had decided to take the mountain route, through Portia’s tribal territory, in order to remain hidden. She warned them that monsters roamed the woods, and things had been changing ever since Mnathix had been moving in.

ACT 2.

5. TRIALS - TESTS, ALLIES, AND ENEMIES.  The hero is tested and sorts out allegiances in the Special World.

The first few nights on the road were uneventful. Peregrine played his lute and sang songs, Piroulette put on little performances, and Pastoralan asked a million questions. She was unlike any elf Portia had ever met. Portia usually liked elves. They were elegant and reserved and kept to themselves. Pastoralan smiled, laughed, and talked too much. Portia couldn’t help but laugh at the company she was keeping. Saria would wander off into the woods at night for some restful solace, the druid needed to meditate to recover from the grueling pace that Portia set.

“How did you learn to wield that sword?” Pastoralan asked as Portia sharpened the edge of her Greatsword. The Greatsword was real steel and was like a child to Portia. She treated it with the utmost care. She kept the edge razor sharp, and the leather pommel well oiled. Though it measured five feet in length, the spritely little halfling handled it with the grace of a full sized person. She didn’t particularly want to encourage the elf to keep talking, but she was incredibly proud of her ability. So Portia entertained the group with her tale of a sorcerer named Alidar that she had rescued from the clutches of a wereboar. The whole party was enthralled as she regaled the battle in graphic detail. In gratitude for saving his life, Portia was granted the ability to wield any weapon. At this point in the story, Portia rolled up her sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a brain on her forearm. Flexing her muscle, she wrapped up the story by concluding, “They say that the brain is the largest muscle, so my brain is here for me to flex!”

The party roared in laughter, and each began to regale their own triumphs. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep, taking shifts to watch for dangers. The night passed, uneventful. Saria reported some strange noises off in the distance but hadn’t felt the need to wake the others.

Traveling became more difficult after that night. They ran into a pack of Gnolls, wolf-like humanoids who were extremely territorial; Peregrine snuck into an encampment of Orcs who were working for Mnathix and slipped them all a poisonous berry called ‘Camper’s Bane’ that made them violently ill; Pastoralan and Piroulette tricked a group of travelers and ‘borrowed’ some rations when the troupe ran low.

After a week of travel, the group arrived at a small village, one of the last outposts before the Fogcap Mountains rose into the wilds. Saria suggested stopping to rest for the night. It would probably be the last warm bed and a hot meal they would have for a while. Just inside the village was an inn and restaurant called “Constance’s Alehouse”. Saria, who had so far had the dourest demeanor of anyone Portia had met, almost ran toward the door. Portia had the feeling Saria had visited this place before.

The party eventually came back together, and Saria had disturbing news to report. Constance had passed all the most recent gossip onto her. There were barbarians fleeing the mountains, claiming that they were being attacked by “bone men”. Saria didn’t know what was meant by bone men, she had never heard of monsters called that. What was more nerve-wracking was that the mountain tribes were fleeing their homes. Barbarians were known for their strength and stubbornness. They had no fear. Something out there was so terrible that the most fierce people in Egalitia were running away.

Saria also mentioned that this town was struggling with a Kobold problem. The Kobolds, small dragon-like creatures had infested the underground network and had begun stealing animals for their rituals. Constance had asked the party to deal with the issue. Everyone in the group agreed, and at dusk, they headed into sewers. The creatures were not hard to track, and soon Piroulette halted the group before they rounded a corner. She whispered that there was a group of eight Kobolds surrounding a goat and that if they moved silently, the creatures would be taken by surprise. Portia rolled her eyes as she drew her greatsword, and ran forward to attack. The rest of the party rushed after her. Pastoralan stayed in the shadows until she found her mark, and shot her crossbow, felling a Kobold in one bolt. Portia hacked one clean in half before the other Kobolds had an opportunity to react. The battle was going in the favor of the traveling companions until a scurrying noise could be heard above them. Portia looked up slowly and saw a disgusting creature, with the body of a human but the face of a giant spider. It was directly overhead of the fight and reading for an attack. Portia began to shout to the group, but at that moment, a kobold in a robe pulled out a wand. In an instant, the whole party dropped to the ground, stunned. The spider creature climbed down and began to spin each of them into its web. Portia watched as all of her companions were hung in the web, but no amount of straining produced any movement.

What seemed like hours later, a large explosion rocked the tunnel. The Kobolds and the Spider monster began jabbering anxiously and ran for the exit. Something had happened on the surface. Portia had begun to regain movement and finally tore through the webbing she was trapped in. She hurried to cut loose the others. As soon as he could speak, Peregrine told them what he had heard.

“I speak draconic, those Kobolds were talking about Mnathix. He must have used some magic against the village. The Kobolds were terrified. They may be evil, but they don’t work for Mnathix.”

6. APPROACH.  The hero and newfound allies prepare for the major challenge in the special world.

The adventurers gathered themselves up and headed for the exit. Their first battle had gone very poorly, the outlook for beating Mnathix was bleak in Portia’s mind. When they reached the center of town they noticed it was eerily quiet. There was no bustle of townsfolk, there were no travelers headed for the inn, in fact, there was no one at all. The group spread out to look for clues as to what happened. Piroulette was headed for the tannery when she heard a noise. She darted into the shadows, then did a flying leap through the open window, landing silently on her feet. She startled a Kobold that was looking the till. With one deft movement, she struck at the Kobold, ending it’s looting, and it’s life.

Piroulette rejoined the others, telling them about what she found. No one else saw any living creature, not even a bird. Saria mentioned that there was a bee colony that Constance used to make mead, and all of the bees were dead. Though Portia did most of her thinking with her muscles, right now her brain was telling her something was seriously wrong.

“We should head for the mountains, and find out who these bone-men are.” Pastoralan looked around. She wanted out of this silent village too. Everyone agreed, but as they headed back to the inn to gather their possessions, the sound started.

First, it was a slow, dragging sound, coming from behind the stables. Then it came from all around, like the town was just waking up, except the sound, they were making was not quite human. Portia drew her greatsword and motioned to the others. Piroulette leaped up onto the statue in the center of the square, Pastoralan slipped into the shadows. Peregrine and Saria looked around for a place to hide, where they could use their magic without the threat of attack.

Piroulette was the first to see the creator of the noise. It was Constance, the bubbly innkeeper, only she was gaunt and pale, her body broken, and her eyes dead. “I think we are about to meet the bone men” Piroulette shouted down. The others readied for battle.

From all around, the undead entered the village square. Some were recently dead, the explosion the night before seemed to be the cause, but others looked like they had crawled up from the grave. Whoever they had been, they were mindless creatures controlled by Mnathix now. Saria fell to the ground in tears when she saw Constance. Peregrine began to play a funeral dirge. All of the adventurers felt their spirits lift, for the song was a magical tune that gave them the courage to fight. Saria stood up and focused on the bone-men coming toward her. Piroulette fired a shot with her bow, trying to down Constance quickly, but the arrow went straight through her, inflicting no damage. Portia jumped into action. She raced forward and attacked one of the undead, swinging her blade with all of her might. Bones began to fly. The other undead saw the damage she was inflicting and closed in on her. Both of the rogues were loosing arrows to no avail. The arrow tips flew right through the bones. Pastoralan dropped her bow and ran into the melee, shortsword drawn.

Portia hacked her way out of the onslaught of bone-men. She saw Saria, bloodied but still standing casting flaming sphere onto her attacker. Peregrine had found a safe perch where he could play his magic song, and Piroulette leaping along the roofline slinging stones at any undead within range. Portia headed toward the statue to help Pastoralan with another cluster when flames erupted from the center of town. Out of the flames came a hand, reaching for Pastoralan. Portia saw what was happening, and on instinct, hurled her greatsword at the hand. She leaped forward and pulled Pastoralan to safety. The flames rose higher, and out of them stepped a wizard, hideous and fearsome. His skin was gaunt, and instead of eyes, he had glowing red orbs.

Portia glanced around at the others and saw them all frozen in fear. Being a halfling, she was immune to magically induced fear, but her own sense of terror set in when she realized her greatsword was on the far side of this beast. She still had other weapons, but the Greatsword had been an extension of her arm for as long as she could remember. She unsheathed her scythe. The masterwork weapon was unique and could become two weapons whenever she needed it. She let the rage of the barbarian consume her and charged at the monster.

7. CRISIS - THE ORDEAL.  Near the middle of the story, the hero enters a central space in the Special World and confronts death or faces his or her greatest fear.  Out of the moment of death comes a new life.

Pastoralan came to her senses at that moment and rushed to flank the monster, but before she could reach it, the creature let out a devastating laugh. “Weak little creatures,” it boomed, “You think you can defeat me? I have conquered all of West Egalitia, no one can stop the Great Mnathix!” As he was speaking, he swung his great arm down on Portia, landing a brutal blow. Her scythes flew from her hands as she fell backward onto the ground. Pastoralan reached Mnathix, but not before he attacked Portia a second time. Even with the wind knocked out of her, she had the wherewithal to roll out of the way. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily and badly wounded. She looked around to her companions.

Piroulette had disappeared, she had either fled in fear or was hiding in the shadows. Peregrine had enchanted his lute to continue playing and was charging into battle with his short sword. Saria was summoning a spell, but could not join the fray. She looked like one more hit would end her. Finally, Portia looked at Pastoralan, the silly smiling elf that talked to much. Pastoralan was bleeding heavily, struggling to move, but still trying to fight this monstrous beast. And now that Portia was knocked down, Mnathix had turned his sights toward Pastoralan. As he turned, however, Peregrine leaped in, landing a fierce blow in the side of Mnathix. The monster screamed. The sound was deafening, and Portia watched as Mnathix grabbed the little gnome by the arm, and fling him across the courtyard as if he were a fly. Portia did not dare to look where he had landed, fearing the worst.

Saria finished summoning her spell, and a bolt of lightning struck Mnathix square in the chest. Fury filled his eyes, although he looked like he was starting to feel the effects of the damage he had been dealt. His sights were still set on Pastoralan, though. Portia knew she must summon her strength and intervene, or Pastoralan would be lost. She saw that there was an opening, and she leaped up running for her greatsword. As she was scooping it up off the ground, an arrow came whizzing by, out of the shadows. It struck Mnathix in the neck, and he stumbled forward. Portia silently praised Piroulette, as she ran up to join the fray again. She saw Mnathix still focused on Pastoralan, and ready to strike a blow. Portia felt the rage well up inside of her, and she channeled all her fury into her next blow. She ran up behind Mnathix, slid between his legs, and as she stood up, she drew up her blade with all her might. She watched his face as it gasped with disbelief before the red eyes faded to nothing. Portia grabbed Pastoralan and threw her to safety as the body of Mnathix collapsed in a heap.

8. TREASURE - THE REWARD.  The hero takes possession of the treasure won by facing death.  There may be a celebration, but there is also the danger of losing the treasure again.

Piroulette emerged from the shadows and raced over to where Peregrine had landed. Portia dared not go over, she could see by the look on Piroulette’s face that Peregrine had sacrificed himself for the good of the party. Portia focused on searching Mnathix. Pastoralan helped. They found a scroll with a spell, a ring of invisibility, and a book. Portia tossed the book aside, but Saria came over and picked it up. “This may give us some insight into how he was able to conquer the people.” Saria was weak but as practical as usual.

After they had looted the body of the monster, the group looked around at the mess. Undead had returned to their original state, the monster lay still on the ground. They had won.

“Did that seem too easy?” Portia asked. They were all bloodied, and they had lost one of their party members, but Mnathix had conquered half of the continent. They had lost a battle to Kobolds the night before and had gone into this fight completely unprepared.

Piroulette nodded slowly. She looked at her friends and sighed. “But we did it. And that's what matters.” They all sat and rested, processing what had just happened.

9. RESULT. The hero must escape the ordeal - either as a champion or fleeing the situation.

Saria was staring at the statue in the middle of the square. It was mostly rubble at this point and charred from the magic fire and from her lightning bolts. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. She got the attention of the group and pointed to the statue. A fire was still burning. It grew steadily larger until it consumed the entire statue. An ethereal voice began to speak, “Mnathix the Destroyer is stronger than you know. He laughs at your ignorance and weakness. You have defeated him this time, but only a small part of who he is. He will continue to wreak havoc on your land until it all belongs to him. Fight if you dare, but you will lose.” The flames rose high above the buildings, then vanished in a burst of ash. The statue was dust on the ground. The village was silent once more.

ACT 3.

10. RETURN - THE ROAD BACK.  About three-fourths of the way through the story, the hero is driven to complete the adventure, leaving the special world to be sure the treasure is brought home.  Often a chase scene signals the urgency and danger of the mission.

The party sat in stunned silence. They had made a dent in fighting Mnathix, but they had been naive to think they had won. After a time they all got up and all walked back to Constance’s Alehouse. They raised a glass to Peregrine and came up with a plan. None of them felt the need to return to Easkerton. Fame and glory awaited them if they claimed responsibility for this battle, but they knew there was more work to be done.

11.NEW LIFE - THE RESURRECTION.  At the climax, the hero is severely tested once more on the threshold of home.  He or she is purified by the last sacrifice, another moment of death and rebirth, but on a higher and more complete level.  

Portia thought about her home in the mountains. The party was headed in that direction. They had discussed continuing on to find Mnathix, and break up his web of monsters. She agreed to go with them, but secretly was considering staying with her tribe. She had learned that she was not as strong or invulnerable as she had believed. She felt like a silly child, playing at being a hero.

The night before they arrived at Portia’s home, Pastoralan pulled her aside. “You saved my life, and almost lost yours. I owe you my life.”

“Think nothing of it,” Portia said. “It was the heat of battle.”

“That is not the truth. You could have used that opportunity to strike, but instead, you saved me.” She knelt down on one knee and drew a dagger. She sliced her hand and held it over her heart. “I swear that from this day and for all days, my life is yours, I will protect you and assist you whenever called upon.”

At that moment Portia knew she could not give up on this quest and return home. This silly elf needed her, and although she would be loathed to admit it out loud, the elf had something to teach her. The elf and the halfling returned to camp. Portia asked that they move past her village, her people would not want her to leave again. The rest of the group agreed. They would stick to the woods and stop at the next ranger station to gather information.

12. RESOLUTION - This is where all of the plot lines start to become resolved. The hero begins to recover from the journey. This is also the moment that will set up the story for future action. Often the main characters will retell the story of the journey, or the mentor will fill in any unanswered questions.

After a few days of hard walking, they came across a small village. It looked to be a way station for rangers and other travelers. Here they met a paladin whos quest was to rid the world of evil. Phoebe was her name, and she wore the most ludicrous and flashy armor Portia had ever seen. She asked to join the party to find and destroy Mnathix. Pastoralan was quite taken with Phoebe, and Portia knew they needed more good fighters if they ever had a chance at succeeding.

Before they left the village, a familiar face appeared. Alidar, the sorcerer that had helped Portia gain her weapon proficiency, wandered into camp. He had been journeying through the west and was passing information on Mnathix. Portia asked him to join their group, knowing that a balance of magic, strength, and dexterity was the only way they could make it. Alidar was happy to help and glad to hear that there were others willing to risk their lives to save the world.

13. STATUS QUO -  The hero returns home or continues the journey, bearing some element of the treasure that has the power to transform the world as the hero has been transformed.

With a full complement of skills and abilities, the party set out for the west. They had a plan, they had a mission, and they knew there would be no home to return to if they did not fulfill their quest. As they rode away from the station, Portia thought about her past. The Broken Fangs had been her tribe, but she had never thought of them as her family.  She looked around at the company she was keeping and knew she had found her family.

[the-realm-of-enderun]

Kumiré Ciarys

Appearance

(Her portrait from an avatar maker app, as best as I could do. Her tusks are like in the second picture, art by @_bittercherries on Twitter.)

- Half-Orc Female with a deep green skin tone and four tusks, two medium sized ones and two smaller ones right next to the others on the middle-side of the larger tusks

- Long, wild, and voluminous dark red hair that reaches to her lower back in the back with the front cut shorter

- Dark red eyes with her right covered by an eyepatch, which is made of silver with a ruby gem embedded in it shaped like an eye

- Seven feet and one inch tall

- 32H (Imperial)/ 70H (Metric)-cup breasts proportional to her size with darker green nipples and areolas most times bound in sarashi bandages

- She has surprisingly few scars scattered across her body

- She has the beauty of her light elven mother mixed with the rugged features, size and musculature of her orcish side

Her Voice: https://youtu.be/eNwBteG2D0w

Outfits

Combat/Adventure: She wears a thick cloth, cropped top with grey steel armor over her shoulders, her upper chest, and her upper back. The cloth covering her breasts is colored a crimson red. She wears a battle skirt of thick hide armor on her hips with a loincloth of leather and armor, and in the back is a larger tail of the same materials with a pair of black leather shorts under it all.. With that, she wears dark brown leather bands around her upper thighs and a pair of hide boots, along with a pair of elbow length leather gloves. For battles that she goes into that she knows will be tough, she wears a shirt of mithril chainmail under her normal top to protect her stomach and back even more than what they already are.

Casual: She wears a simple rugged tunic that is sleeveless and colored dark brown along with a pair of loose pants of matching style and color. She also wears the same boots she wears in her adventuring outfit.

Bio

- She is twenty five years old

- Child of a light elven woman and an orc woman, named Eilwynn Ciarys and Rahkoshi respectively

- She is the biological child of both her mothers

- She is a feared Barbarian on the battlefield

- She and her parents lived with a nomadic tribe of joined races in the mountainous Kingdom of Ucrar until she was five years old when her mothers left the harsh lifestyle behind to move to the secluded village of Cascade Veil in the southern reaches of the Greypine Mountains of Ucrar

- At age fifteen, Kumiré returned to the tribe she was born into when they roamed close to Cascade Veil and trained her body as a barbarian with her uncle

- While with her tribe during her training, she was given the two dual war cleavers that were once her grand father's, who was the battle chief of the tribe

- After her training was complete, she returned to her parents for a time before setting out to new lands to find opportunities for herself. Her journey took her to Aerilon where she quickly joined Dawnfire

- She is surprisingly quiet and shy, a far cry from what people around Palara know of barbarians

- She is fond of every member of Dawnfire and sees them all as another family

- Due to the circumstances of her birth, she was able to take to magic easily but mainly uses it for minor protective spells 

- She has an indomitable spirit despite her normal shyness, which served her well in her training

- She is devoted to protecting the weak from harm

- She is a devoted follower of both Tyriel and Valienca

- Enjoys feasts and usually eats a large amount of food

- Very much enjoys drinking, and can drink most people under the table

- She enjoys returning home every so often to relax in the cool air of Cascade Veil

- Her eyepatch was given to her by Eilwynn, who enchanted it to give Kumiré the sight of her lost eye

Weapons

Demon Breakers: A pair of large, single-edged war cleavers fit perfectly for the hands of a mighty barbarian. Both are longer than bastard swords at forty six inches long, and both are nine inches wide with slightly flared tips. Both blades are made of strong, well tempered Aegisteel with edges of pure silver magically fused onto them. Both have simple hilts wrapped in leather and bound in leather strips and can either be held in one hand or two. Both mighty weapons are attuned to her and can attach to her body at will, letting her easily keep them on her hips with the hilts further forward in front of her, keeping the tips of the blade from dragging the ground behind her.

Abilities

Barbarian Hide: Kumiré's skin is extremely tough to where it can withstand numerous strikes before it gives, even from blades. 

Protection Magic: She is able to use simple spells to give herself a protective barrier of iron skin to withstand even more attacks.

Threatening Aura: When necessary, Kumiré uses her magic to give off an aura of danger that threatens and strikes fear into her enemies.

Incredible Strength and Endurance: Natural attributes of her orcish blood made stronger by her barbarian training.

Incredible Athleticism: Kumiré can perform amazing feats of athleticism, including sprinting for long distances and leaping to unnatural heights and distances.

Pain and Elemental Tolerance: Kumiré can withstand a certain degree of pain before she begins to feel it, and she can withstand the elements a great amount.

[asgardian--angels]

Here, I wrote a short thing in stream-of-consciousness style, didn’t do much proofreading, but I hope you enjoy :)

Listened to Lonely Day and Ego Brain by System of a Down on repeat for this...

Warnings for pure a n g s t

If anyone wants this on AO3 I’ll put it up

Mairon stared blankly out at the desolation of Mordor, stretching outwards into the horizon, a bleak, cratered landscape where little stirred. From his view in the tower, he could just make out the pale flames of torches dotting the valley of Udûn, hundreds of orc-camps crowded side by side in the endless dark. The hot dusty wind fluttered through his hair, and there was moisture in it, coming up from the south. Good, they needed the rain. Orcs did not require much to subsist, but they could not go without entirely, and Núrn was late in their harvest this season. They should have grain aplenty soon enough. There was this and more to think about, all the moving parts of his vast dominion, working together like gears in a great machine. But as his gaze drifted along the rugged mountains and down across the plateau, a repeating mosaic of the same muted shades of grays and browns, he could dwell only on how much this land reminded him of the aftermath of the War. Perhaps it was his curse to live here and be reminded of it day after day, to smell him in the breeze and yet see only that which brought about his end. If he could only keep his eyes closed, maybe it would be bearable. Instead he just let his vision lose focus, becoming a lifeless blur before a lifeless face. Allowing his perception of time to fall away, like a thin shawl slipping off his shoulders, he sat undisturbed and unmoving, silhouetted by the faint orange glow of the fuming cone of Orodruin in the distance. None of his servants important enough to have direct contact with him, even the Nazgûl, ever dared attempt to rouse him from these states when they occurred.

When finally he stirred, Mairon looked out upon the exact same view he had left, but now the air was heavy and held a chill that crept quickly through his light robes. Six months had passed; the sea had brought rains to Núrn, the wheat seeded and was reaped, it was delivered and ground and baked and long since devoured by the famished orcs. Quietly he stood, limbs stiff and aching, and descended the steep stone stairs from the high tower. Upon seeing their master his loyal guards snapped to, straightening their backs, lifting their chins, and lining up to make a path for their lord, while the handful of thralls under their supervision scrambled to get back to work repairing a crumbling section of wall. Mairon took no notice of them, his deep amber eyes roving back and forth as if in a trance. He passed them by, and with a relieved sigh the men, gaunt and unshaven, slouched back once more. The crack of a whip, once, twice, three times, sent them back into action, frantically laying bricks and mortar as Mairon continued to amble down the twisting halls, guided by little more than muscle memory. In front of a large wooden door he stopped, staring into it vacantly. Within a few seconds a guard appeared, and seeing his lord waiting, retrieved the key from his belt and pushed open the door with some effort. He bowed low and stepped back. Without acknowledgement, Mairon shuffled into the wide room, making his way to a large wardrobe against the far wall. With cold fingers, he pulled the tarnished gold handle and was met with a cloud of stale air. He paid it no heed, glassy gaze scanning the contents of the wardrobe. Gently he tugged towards him an old cloak, trimmed and lined with thick mottled fur from a breed of beast that had not walked the earth for over three thousand years. Though its deep crimson was now faded, it was in surprisingly fair condition given its age, as were the other garments on the rack next to it.

Like he had so many countless times before, Mairon wrapped the cloak around himself and felt life seep back into his tired bones. He stood there, face buried in the musty fur, breathing in the scent of him that lingered still, the memory of that old life of his. If he could just keep his eyes closed… maybe he could pretend. Perception returned to him slowly, and he became painfully aware of the absence of warmth in this place. He had lived in worse, but here, being alone made everything colder than ice. Picking himself up, he breathed deeply, letting the frigid air fill his lungs, and strode out of the room. Mordor did not sleep, neither could he. Until the next time, that is. This old thing would fall apart someday, he knew.

He needed a vacation. Somewhere new. An island, maybe. He hadn’t been to one of those for a long time. It would do him good to get away for a while.

[cadams0950-blog]

Contract: A Warlock in the Mountains

The stranger was unlike anything the townspeople had ever seen, though not unlike anything they’d ever heard of. As he hadn’t taken a gryphon nor walked with any manner of riding beast, he must have walked or ran, though a bead of sweat was not visible on him, to the town of Lakeshire from Stormwind. If there had been a single thing that the villagers shared with the stranger, they might have had some form of comfort deep in their brains but absolutely nothing was to be recognized as normal.

The man’s outer appearance was unsettling to say the least. Not only was he an elf, standing two hands taller than any man with his silver skin and stark-white hair despite showing no real age on his features, but he was a Demon Hunter.

The title felt like poison on the tongues of the men and women who watched him striding towards the town, whispering in secret disgust. Because of his affliction, the elf didn’t appear natural, nor did the people of Lakeshire feel the need to treat him as such. He wore a thick cloth blindfold over his eyes, thick enough to hide any light of the green flame within his sockets. Horns like that of a large bull protruded from behind his hairline, ending in pointed tips that seemed to be stained a greenish color. He wore only black and red leather pants, boots, and gloves for clothing on his person, his black demonic tattoos able to show in full view. A massive sword was sheathed across his back, and a black leather backpack lay on his back, strapped diagonally across his chest. Not even the way he walked was the same, his footsteps making no noticeable sound. The elf knew he wouldn’t be received well here, as in most settlements of any kind, but he was numb to the ignorance of worldly people by now… nevertheless, he had his mission.

He walked to the tavern of the town, striding past the gawkers and glares of the people. He sat himself at the end of the bar, with one man on the other side. “Brandy,” he said in a smooth baritone that had wooed women from their seats before his change. He placed down payment for the drink and bartender, silent and glaring like the rest of the town, prepared his drink with the rough efficiency of someone doing their job and nothing more. The elf took a swallow of his drink and nodded to himself. He liked the liquors of man and dwarf, though his heightened senses did make him crinkle his nose a bit at the taste. After a moment, the elf spoke. He was not loud and had no emotion in his voice to draw attention, nevertheless his voice carried through the bar, which had grown quiet since his entrance. “I have a contract on the warlock in the mountains giving you trouble. If anyone has information about the sorcerer, come forward and speak.”

For a long moment, no one spoke, no one even moved. Then a young man, maybe seventeen, rose and walked towards the bar. The elf had used his enhanced senses upon his entrance, looking upon every person to seek for dark magic or demonic illusions. Though he found none, the one approaching him had traces of a curse on this one’s leg, healed but already having done damage. A witness, or at least a victim. The elf turned around in his seat and for the first time upon entering the town, the elf allowed his spectral sight to weaken, no longer having his vision be a whirl of energies that he long ago learned to decipher, instead he saw as he did before his eyes were gouged. The boy was blonde, but far from fair. He had a rugged look of a farmer, and the calluses on the boy’s hands confirmed that. He smiled a bit at the boy’s brave face, which melted away upon seeing the fangs in the elf’s smile, though he kept walked forward.

“The warlock were an orc. Skin were so dark was almost black. Horrible red eyes too.” The elf held back a sigh. The boy was terrified, and likely wasn’t going to be any help. Nevertheless, he was probably one of the only survivors, and the only one with the confidence to approach him.

“Aye. Orcs tend to be that way. There are a few things I need to ask you, alright?” The boy gave the barest of nods. “Where is the warlock hiding?”

The boy took a deep breath. “He’s hiding in the mountains in this spot called the semp-olker. Lots o’ bad things like to hide in that place, I tell ya’.”

The elf furrowed his brows. “A sepulcher in redridge?....” After a moment he shook his head and  continued, “Okay. Mark it on this map, and thank you for your cooperation.” The boy put a small ‘X’ on a spot in the mountains and, without another word, the elf took down the rest of his drink and walked out of the establishment with map in hand.

Varillion was glad to be out of the town, and glad to find a living witness. The magic of the curse would prove to be a scent he could somewhat track, at least to right set of mountains-- the whole place was nothing but mountainous, how was he supposed to go to ‘the mountains’ to look for it! Once he got his bearings higher up, he used the map to continue towards the marked area. He didn’t like the landscape, but not because of the climate or the bareness of it. There was something nagging at him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it until…. Ah… Nothing has attacked him, no. Nothing has even been visible. No beasts, or monsters, though he could sense the bugs in the ground. It was too quiet though, and this lent him great unease. When he got to the area, he understood the name the boy gave it.

He doubted anyone had ever built a crypt or sepulcher in Redridge, as it was only done in swampy marshes where normal graves didn’t hold, or for great heroes, or for large family lines. Nevertheless, there was the sight of cut, quarried stone in the side of one of the mountains, the kind of stone that one brings from a far ways off to built something that will last. A closer examination showed Varillion that this was some sort of an old fort. Very old, and the dirt piles at the sides of the entrance told him that whoever this orc was, he was looking for something with only the knowledge of where an old fort used to be. The thought unsettled him further, but he sensed the source of the boy’s curse in the fort, and so he continued inside.

Buried under piles of dirt, and built into a mountain, the place sustained no sort of vegetation from the years of inactivity. Webs were presents only from long-dead spiders. The air was musty, but breathable after having been opened for… less than a month, he guessed. Skeletons, long since dried out and covered in dirt, littered the floor. They were short, stout, and hard-headed. Dwarves, no doubt, but dwarves hadn’t lived in these parts of the world for a long time. Before Stormwind’s first days at least.

Varillion continued through the hallways, stopping only when he heard a muttering. It sounded orcish, and much like a chant of some kind. He moved to continue, but felt something prickling in the side of his awareness. Looking up, he saw runes lining the ceiling like a gate. A quick glance-over told him it was an alarm spell, one that would make the warlock aware of anyone who passed the threshold. He could disarm it, at risk of rising the warlock’s awareness, but Varillion was a mage long before he was a Demon Hunter, and he knew how to circumvent it. He breathed out deeply once, twice, then on the third exhale he felt himself go cold and numb. His body was now covered in an illusion that masked not only his magic, not only his vital signs, but any form of visible existence. It strained him, but he prided himself on this level of invisibility. Without an issue, he walked through the gate, undisturbed by his passing.

The chanting, come from within a doorway closeby, got progressively louder. Varillion recognized it as a chant to build power. From the power he currently felt in the air, he’d guessed that the warlock had been chanting for the entire day. For what purpose, he didn’t know. Glancing at the doorway, he saw it lead to the basement. The wooden stairs had long since rotted away, but a rope-ladder hang there. Varillion didn’t need it. He dropped down to the basement floor, the air he moved with his drop being the old sound he created. But it was enough.

The orc stood quickly, turning around first in confusion, then in outrage, then in fear. Varillion had dropped his invisibility and now stood, fel energy lining his hands that lit up his profile. He wasn’t above a little bit of showmanship, having liked making a dramatic entrance every once and awhile. The orc wasn’t in the same sort of mood, anger building at having to waste all of his built energy. The orc’s right hand burst into a massive flame, easily the size of the orc himself, before the flames all imploded into a tiny green bead of energy that the orc held between his fingernails. “Begone, hunter, or I will gnaw on your bones come supper.” The orc spoke common, though it didn’t surprise Varillion. No weak mind could command the ability the orc had, though it obviously wasn’t a strong enough mind to resist corruption. What did surprise him was the orc’s fear. If he believed he could kill Varillion, he probably would have. But if he didn’t believe he could, he wouldn’t prepare a spell like this. What was he so afraid of?

“You’ve been terrorizing the humans, so no can do. I will give you one change to g---” Varillion stopped mid-sentence to lunge at the orc. He wasn’t the type to talk, but listening to speech can throw an enemy off, if he’s not careful. But the orc was smarter than that. Varillion was far too fast or agile for the orc to match him physically, and the hunter had lived knowing how to pick apart his kind, so he struck. From the bead in the orcs hand, a beam of condensed fel energy burst forth to catch the ever-closer hunter mid-air. The orc didn’t even see it done, but somewhere the elf had drawn the sword on his back, a massive thing unholdable to anyone that wasn’t an ogre or supernatural. The blade was dark iron, no longer shining from long years of use. Despite its size, it darted out and struck the ground beneath Varillion, redirection his momentum to the side. As quick as he was, he couldn’t avoid it hitting his left foot. His leather boot was practically incinerated and his skin has was covered in blisters where it touched, from barely a moment of contact. Finally Varillion realized he couldn’t waste any more time if he was going to survive this encounter. He tossed out three fist-sized stones covered in runes. Not having the keen senses of the hunter, he was unable to see the runes in the dark and assumed it was simply a blind throw to distract him, but he was wrong. When he fired his beam again, it hit a barrier that reflected the beam, hitting the ceiling above him. The quarried stone of the floor above tumbled down, crushing the orc’s body beneath the rubble.

Varillion breathed out a breath of relief and sheathed his sword, walking over between the rubble and the wall to where the orc’s shrine was. Dark symbols skittered the surface of the table, as did a book that Varillion sensed was inherently dark. He grabbed the book, placing it in his pack. As he left, he placed another runed stone down at the entrance of the old fort, creating an illusion of a closed, normal mountain. Walking back on the road to Strormwind he was deep in thought, a few questions repeating themselves in his mind. What was he up to? What was he afraid of? How did he know about such an old structure and why was it important? Maybe the book would tell him more...

[hermanwatts]

OTHERSCIENCE STORIES: The Pleistocene Murders, Part 5

[Part 1] …[an] insidious gang of possible accomplices… we’ll need to investigate a little further before passing judgment.

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The Winter of Life

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At the worst of the Ice Age, the Arctic of now was the Europe of then- ice to the North, then permafrost all the way south to the Alps, then tundra and steppe to the Mediterranean. The sea level was more than one hundred meters lower than today. The Solutreans were able to walk across, or skip along the edge of, the sea ice from Iberia to America more than 20,000 years ago, there to become the Clovis people. The North America they discovered was not much different from Europe; a massive sheet of ice covered half the continent.

Yet, at the same time, Siberia had no icecap, nor did most of Alaska. These places were temperate at the time, even though they are further north, a major mystery stashed under the rug somewhere- don’t bother asking Dr. PhD how that’s supposed to work. On this particular point, a pole shift, or a giant electric blanket, are just as good of stories as any. We know these regions were temperate because of, among many other things, the undigested flowers, leaves, and grasses found in the mouths of the frozen Mammoths.

A group of awesome human hunters demonstrate the proper Sapien-guy form. Dr. Mammoth’s colleagues are just out of picture, to the left and to the right. Artist: Paul Jamin, 1885

The comet story is some part of the picture. The broken-up comet/asteroid (these are two names for the same thing, a Rock-That-Moves-Through-Plasma-Space) might have come in hyperbolic, at a low angle from the Southeast, ploughing into and vaporizing parts of the Canadian icecap, scouring the Canadian Shield. Part of the ensuing insta-muck was launched onto suborbital trajectories over the Arctic Ocean, to land on northern Alaska and Siberia. In this unauthorized version of the story, the Carolina Bays would be the precursors, with the similar features in Northern Siberia as chunkier pieces that overshot the space-muck. The atmospheric blast wave, then blast wind, attended the monster tsunami coming in from across the Arctic Ocean. These fluids carried the forces that uprooted, tore asunder, and finally entombed the millions of shredded trees and animals in the frozen muck. The volcanoes that lit up as a result could have plunged the northern world into darkness for some time, while the liquefied ice cap flooded all the coasts. A great deal of the lofted water would have ended up in the upper atmosphere, enough to provide heavy rain for, say, forty days and nights. Whatever did cause the mass destruction also instantly changed Siberia from a temperate climate to the subarctic climate of today, like turning out the lights.

Though the comet/asteroid story makes the grazing fly-by, it doesn’t quite land with the punch we are looking for. To be sure, something Terrible visited the North around the time of the major extinctions- maybe to wipe out much of the Clovis people in the process- but, in addition to the undesirable litany of iffys, maybes, and perhaps seeminglys, the Terrible didn’t visit South America, which suffered the worst losses. It also happened too quickly to account for the spread in the putative dates of the various extinctions, unless there were multiple hits coming in on similar hyperbolic trajectories over the centuries. That’s middling-plausible, since the Taurids always radiate from Taurus, but all the pairings of the orbital elements have to line up just so. The Terrible also destroyed all kinds of plants and animals that did not end up going extinct- the comet crept in through the window but the dog didn’t bark for them.

We want something even more terrible than an asteroid strike, that is worldwide, and that takes place over a period of centuries, hence the desire to blame climate or humans. We also don’t want to have to drag our tropey Space Brothers in to get ‘er done as part of their off-world mining operations- that’s so last ice age.

Dear Human Hunter:  Mama Giant Ground Sloth would like a word with you.

The human-hunting idea has what amounts to a military problem. Our ancient parents were as bands of Hobbits surrounded by armies of giant Orcs numbering in the hundreds of millions between their different kinds. A field marshal, reviewing his rag tag tribe of midgets armed with sticks and arrows, would have to weigh those facts against his enemy’s tooth and claw, tusk, armor, size, and troop strength. He would have to retire from the field, discretion being the better part of valor.

We saw this dynamic play out in North America in historical times. The Great Plains Indians could not subdue the immense herds of Bison that ranged across the prairie lands. Save the occasional Hobbit-Indian, these were prey almost without predators, the layovers of a devastated ecosystem. These wilding Pleistocene survivors could not be fenced, or tamed, or stopped. Bison Army Field Marshal Old Logan, Pennsylvania Division, was quite insistent on this point. Most instructive. On this point:

“… When they were gone the barn was still standing, but the fences, springhouse, and haystack were gone, as if swept away by a flood. Six cows, four calves, and thirty-five sheep lay crushed and dead among the ruins.”

The Indians couldn’t build cities because cities need farms, and farms would be plundered by the Million Bison Army. They had to move their teepees around, always being careful not to pick a place that was too lush, too open, too attractive. Even with the gifts of the carbon-based horse and the iron gun there were still too many Buffalo and not enough Indians. The mighty new iron-based horse had to charge, to build the requisite mountains of skulls, to clear the table for the next course on evolution.

As with all the higher animals, there is an innocence and a sweetness about the remaining Bison despite their formidable appearance. The men on horseback could ride right into a herd and fire at will. The Bison have no concept of this kind of predation. Poor Old Logan was doing what he could to protect his tribe in the only way he knew. The landed farmers were as enigmatic as UFOs to them. In the end, all they really wanted to do was to eat the grass. It is no stretch to imagine that all of the other Pleistocene animals, both predator and prey- even the Orcs- were of similar disposition- as long as you are not on the menu, and don’t mess with their kiddies or their doggie bowl.

A few thousand years ago there were several North American bison models to choose from, from the deluxe Texas-sized edition on down. The little guy on the right is the only kind left, the only one we know. This striking pattern is echoed across many types of Ice Age animals: the big ones went under, their little cousins pulled through. Artist: Roman Uchytel

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The idea that the biggest animals were sought after is a complete inversion of the basic rules of predation.

I’zzz jjjusss lovesses meezz sssome humanzesz hunter, tse-tse-tse. ////ssss//// Megalania Prisca

A predator cannot afford grave injury. He who fight and run away live to fight another day. The injured wolf cannot run with the pack anymore; it has to be left behind to die. The predator always looks for the easiest kill, not the most difficult. The predator, the bureaucrat, the businessman- the cleaning lady- all seek to make the necessary gains while spending the minimum amount of time, effort, and risk. Tracking prey over long distances would be quite perilous where packs of more capable predators are roaming the same territory. The hunter becomes the hunted. This is also a numbers game: one million or less Hobbits vs. 100 million or more Orcs per continent, with each Orc requiring several Hobbits for the dicey take-down. Additionally, each such operation has to be done while all the other Orcs are looking the other way, times 100,000,000.

Many of these Pleistocene animals had enormous ranges, spanning continents and even over several. A fanciful, blitzkreig annihilation would have to be coordinated between all the little tribes of warring Hobbits both in time and in geography, otherwise some of the animals would always be left to re-populate. The minor inconvenience caused by starting prairie fires over here isn’t going to stop the animals from simply moving over there for a bit, there to anticipate the lush new vegetation coming in after the burn. All those little stone arrowheads are clearly designed for small game, not the big stuff.

Some stories are better than other stories. The “Horrible Human Hunters are Awful” narrative has too many insurmountable problems to stand up to scrutiny, unless the absence of evidence can be entered to prove. It reads like badly-written fantasy: play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Ugh: “Nice pix, yo. How’s bout we roll on these lion and hippo packs and stuff?” Og: “Cool idea, brah. But I gotta hang here and finish up another 10,000 years of art class.” Artist: Og the Chauvet Caveman

The debate about the causes behind the Quaternary Extinction Event has gone on for a long time without resolution. The pattern of extinctions doesn’t make sense. Things don’t add up. Into this vacuum other theories- stories- about exotic diseases, comets, and black swan events, have been put forth. I made up a new story awhile ago too, about Earth’s gravity increasing just a tiny bit, just enough to make today’s elephant and giraffe the biggest and the tallest possible animals, and the condor or albatross the biggest possible birds.

Any of these things may well be a part of the truest story, but none of them can stand on their own. There are too many specific cases that don’t fit.

.

The Pleistocene Murders were so very selective. Very discriminating.

The bit about a lower carbon dioxide level can’t explain either why only certain animals went extinct and others did not; it’s much too capricious and indiscriminate. Climate change- the Ice Age, the cold, the drier air, less rainfall- can point to a great part of it, but it also runs into the specificity problem. That should have affected many more plants and animals, not just certain ones. But there is another diabolical piece to this puzzle, one the Prosecution had failed to fit to its proper place before.

.

The players and their furniture have been entered and examined. There will be war…

OTHERSCIENCE STORIES: The Pleistocene Murders, Part 5 published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[daqtranscripts]

Ep.2 Transcript

Ep. 2 Transcript: Alpine Escape - Chapter Two.

Begin:

Opening theme:

[THEME MUSIC — WRITTEN FOR THE SHOW BY SOPHIE]

[RECAP]

Sophie: It’s a frigid night in the mountains, and we see a group of assorted humanoids — humans, elves, dwarves and other, less common races — huddled together for warmth inside dome cages made of sturdy wood. Rugged and cruel-looking orcs patrol the spaces between the cages as well as the rest of the land between a tall stone keep that the orcs have occupied for some time. In the bowels of the keep, a half-orc named Lazza packs her bags and initiates a daring plan to cover her escape.

Kenway: Thanks...thanks for your stories.  Yeah I, uh, I think they’re really helping everyone.

Ellywick: Well thanks.

Kenway: What’s your name?

Ellywick: My name is Ellywick Faelover Wandfidget the Ambiguous.

Kenway: Uh, my name is Kenway. I, uh…do you really think someone is going to come for us? If...if we do get saved, don’t leave us behind, okay?

Mara: Fuck. Oh man! [LAUGHING]

Sophie: How do you respond to that?

Credence: No pressure!

Mara: Right?

Lazza: I could use a distraction. Are you good in a fight?

Defiance: Is this to be some sort of a jailbreak, then?

Lazza: I was just wanting to get away. You could do whatever the hell you want with the kids, but… I wasn’t really thinking on having extra baggage… Ah, fuck it… I’ll chop out the kids while you make a ruckus. Okay. Alright. Oh! And, uh… Hey, if we live through this, I’m Lazza.

Defiance: It is a pleasure to meet you, Lazza. I’m Defiance.

Sophie: There’s, like, an orc on the battlement… Yeah, not only do you hit this orc, but you fuckin’, like, this thing gets hit right in the head with this glowing, like, bolt, and its head snaps back and it falls backwards, not off the battlement, but backwards onto the battlement. They’re preparing for a siege, they think they’re under attack.

Joe: Oof!

[END RECAP]

[THEME MUSIC]

Announcer: This show is part of the trans podcaster visibility initiative.

Sophie: Uh… Okay! Back to Lazza now. Defiance has just kind of skirted off into the night, um, and the villagers are starting to pour out and kind of work on...the other cage. What do you do?

Credence: The one with the…?

Sophie: The one with the elves.

Credence: Okay. And are any of them headed towards, um, the path...that I indicated? ‘Cause, like, 40 people trying to undo a cage is gonna be noticed.

Sophie: Yeah, that’s fair! Maybe like half of ‘em start to undo the cage and — it was 40 including the children and everything…

Credence: Right, but that’s still a lot of people.

Sophie: Yeah, there’s like, 20 adults, maybe like 25, and...we’ll say about half of ‘em kinda work together to undo the cage and they’re pulling it apart — which they’re not having huge success with, but it’s slow-going, but they are doing it — and the other half are heading down the path that you indicated.

Credence: Okay, um… So, I’m gonna...sneak over to the kids’ cage, um…

Sophie: ™ kids, like ™ cage...

[CROSSTALK AND MUFFLED BREATHY LAUGHTER]

Credence: Um… [ROLLS DICE] Well… [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] That is a one.

[SNORTING AND CRINGING “OOH”]

Sophie: I think that, ah… Y’know, again, you’re able to get the cage open with your axe, but you make a lot of noise doing it. To the point—

Credence: Well, here, here — narratively, I have an idea. When the tremors start, Lazza just freaks out. She’s just like, “Holy shit!”

[SNORTING]

Sophie: Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Um, I think...you hear the noises from the castle and everything and I think that Lazza freaks out and — again, I don’t think that you’re unable to get this cage open, I think what happens is just that you’re freaking the fuck out and you’re making a lot of noise and maybe even roaring a little bit, as you’re tearing this down, you’re making like a [ROARING YELLING NOISE]! You scare the shit out of the kids!

Mara: I think Ellywick kinda like, pulls their hood back and is like, “You think you could be a little quieter?!” [LAUGHS]

Lazza: [FRANTICALLY AND LOUDLY] Listen! [CLEARS THROAT AND LOWERS VOICE AGAIN] You’re a weird-looking kid…

Ellywick: [IN IRRITATION] I’m not a kid! I’m a gnome! Thanks!

Lazza: [IN A COMBINATION OF FLUSTERED SURPRISE AND DISCRIMINATORY SUSPICION] Oh—! OH…

[EVERYONE ERUPTS INTO LAUGHTER]

Lazza: [FLUSTERED] Look, um…! The…! The strange orc is doing magic! And! Look! I — do you wanna get outta here or not?!

Ellywick: [SHIFT IN DEMEANOR] I… Uh, yeah! How can I help?

Lazza: Ahh, j-just— c’mon, bring the kids…! Ah, FUCK. See that path?

Credence: [ASIDE] I point out the path again.

Ellywick: Yeah?

Lazza: I just need you to get the kids to the path and give ‘em to the...give ‘em off to the humans, you just… Uhh… Yeah! Just get…! Going that way!

Mara: Okay, and I think I kind of, like, round up all of the kids with the help of Kenway and — I know all their names by now and I’m like, “Timmy, Bobby, Susie, Kenway, let’s go!” Like… [LAUGHS]

Sophie: And I think, actually, as you’re doing it, Kenway is kind of looking at Lazza and kind of grabs Ellywick’s hand quick and tries to pull you down the path as well.

Mara: Mhmm.

Sophie: And kind of looks at you and is like, definitely scared of Lazza a bit, but is looking at you, Ellywick, and looking like, “Don’t...don’t leave us!”

Ellywick: I, erm… Look, kid, you’ll be safe with the adults, I just… I can help, and remember those heroes that I told you about? Kinda one of them sometimes.

Kenway: Promise me you’ll come.

Mara: R-right now? Come back? I dunno what you’re asking me! [NERVOUS CHUCKLING]

Sophie: I thought you were making a sex joke.

Mara: Nooooo!

Sophie: Well, I wouldn’t put it past you!

Credence: [FAUX MIFFED] It’s a child, Sophie!

Sophie: I-I’m the one playing the child! Mara’s the one playing the fucking pervy gnome!

Mara: Yeah but they’re not gonna perv on some kids! They have standards!

Sophie: Well I should hope so! But yeah, no…

Kenway: Promise me you’ll follow.

Ellywick: I’ll b— I’ll be back in a little bit, don’t worry about me!

Sophie: Okay, yeah, he runs off.

Mara: Okay. I, um… What do I see, I guess? What’s…

Sophie: Ah, you wanna make a perception roll?

Mara: Sure.

Sophie: We’ll get you rolling some dice.

Mara: [ROLLS DICE] Ugh! Uuuuhhhh, that is...a four!

Sophie: ‘Kay. You see kind of the only obvious things here — you see this big-ass fuckin’ orc that’s starting to walk away, and… What is Lazza doing right now, actually?

Credence: Um. I think Lazza is going over to help with the elf cage, ‘cause like…

Sophie: I think Lazza’s just like, “We needed to get out of here, like, five minutes ago!”

Credence: Mhmm.

Sophie: Like, “The sooner you all leave, the better.”

Credence: Mhmm.

Sophie: Okay! Yep. That makes sense from a character choice standpoint. Okay, so that’s...but you don’t really intuit anything about the situation.

Mara: Okay. Uuuuuuumm…! I think I’m gonna go and try and help out just with getting the, ah, I guess the elf cage.

Sophie: Okay. Ah, do y’all wanna make another stealth roll? Lazza?

Credence: Yeah. [ROLLS DICE]

Mara: Should I, too?

Sophie: I think Lazza’s the one hacking it apart.

Mara: Alright.

Credence: Well, I got a 10.

Sophie: Yeah, again, I think that this happens very loudly, but at the same time, you know, I think probably the earth is still shaking a little bit and there’s tons of commotion inside the keep, and I just don’t think that there’s a huge amount of people looking for exactly what’s happening. You know? They’re probably not overly concerned with their prisoners, they’re looking for an incoming army. So, I think they probably don’t notice, but at the same time, it’s very loud and you’re probably filled with anxiety over that.

Ellywick: Stealth, uh, isn’t really your strong suit, huh?

Lazza: Well actually, I’m proficient in it, it’s just, uh, I’m nervous.

[SOFT CHUCKLING]

Ellywick: I, ah… I’ll believe it when I see it, I guess! I… So what’s the plan? What’re we doing?

Lazza: Uh… Well, I haven’t really thought much...past this… Um… I mean, like—

Ellywick: [FLABBERGASTED] Let me get this straight — you decided you were gonna free all of us and then just, I don’t know, let what happens happen?!

Lazza: [FLUSTERED] Well, I just…! I needed...I needed a distraction, I needed to get out of here! So like, look, I mean…

Ellywick: [SCOFFS]

Lazza: [STAMMERING] I don’t know! I’m making it up as I go! Just, ah… Look, the strange orc is making a...quite a bit of ruckus over there. So we need to...get going! And just start running! Or, you know…! I didn’t think this through!

Sophie: I think as you are literally shouting “I didn’t think this through,” Defiance comes running, like jogging straight up and is like, “Back! Strange Orc is back!~”

Lazza: Okay! Strange Orc! [STUTTERING] Do you have any ideas?! What do we do?!

Ellywick: Wait! What’s your name? You’ve gotta have a name other than “Strange Orc.”

Defiance: Oh! Erm… My name is Defiance.

Ellywick: Pleased to meet you! Orc, what’s your name?

Lazza: [ANXIOUSLY] I— Look, I’m Lazza, but we really gotta go, and I think we should make a beeline—

Credence: And she points to, like, another...path that’s really hidden, like not really… I think she has another means of escape besides the path she told the prisoners to go down so that she wouldn’t be tracked with them.

Mara: Yeah…

Credence: So she’s like—

Lazza: Look, look! It’s great to get to know y’all, but we gotta GO.

Mara: Ellywick’s—

Ellywick: [HUFFY] Well, I promised the kid I would be back, so I gotta go that way, but uh, [VERY FAST AND VERY EXCITED] I’m Ellywick Faelover Wandfidget the Ambiguous, it was nice to meet ya!

Mara: And that’s kinda as they’re running away.

Defiance: [SOFTLY] Li-like...wise…?

Mara: [CHUCKLING]

Defiance: Lazza, you go down your path. I’ll catch up.

Lazza: [STUTTERS]

Defiance: I think just a bit more chaos is needed.

Mara: And Ellywick kinda, like, whips around and is like, “Chaos?~”

Lazza: Well, yeah, that’s the whole point, we’re trying to make a distraction, but it’s no good if you both end up dead! Like, look, I…! You know what? Damn it!

Defiance: [BEMUSED BUT EARNEST] It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

Ellywick: [DEVIOUSLY] I got a trick or two up my sleeve if they catch us.

Credence: I feel like… I feel like Lazza would have...like, she’s already kinda got a kinship with Defiance just ‘cause she likes the strange orc with purple skin! Like, look, that’s rad! Your teeth are growing out of your head though, that’s super weird.

Joe: [LAUGHING]

Credence: But…

Joe: I’m sorry.

Credence: I feel like she’s a little bit more mistrustful of Ellywick ‘cause she doesn’t know what to expect from her?

Mara: Them.

Credence: Sorry. Them. And…

Joe: That’s fair.

Credence: I’m just trying to figure out if Lazza would stay? Do you know what I mean?

[CHORUS OF HUMMED AGREEMENT]

Sophie: I’ll tell you, as a narrator, like, y’all can do what you want, but you kind of have a moral, ethical choice — either you can abandon these villagers, who will probably be captured and killed by the orcs if they don’t have someone to lead them through the forest, and who will probably die of exposure even if the orcs don’t catch up with them, and you can go on your own...or you can go with them and kind of try to ensure their survival. And I think that’s a conversation that the three of you need to have. That’s something that your characters need to work through.

Credence: Right. ‘Cause like, right now, where Lazza is, she’s just focused on “she needs to get out.” She doesn’t have the perspective right now to realize, “You’re going to leave all these people for dead if you don’t go with them.”

Sophie: Right, absolutely.

Joe: Mhmm.

Credence: She doesn’t have that, like, perspective right now. She can’t think through that ‘cause she’s currently worried about herself.

Joe: Right.

[INDECIPHERABLE CROSSTALK]

Joe: I was, ah… I was gonna have Defiance kind of explain that, just in general.

Mara: Mhmm.

Joe: I’ll do a little, like — I’ll do a character voice.

Defiance: Listen! Lazza, I know you’re scared! But the thing is I need to stay behind just a little bit more so those villagers have a little bit more time to get out of sight, because one or two of us can more easily sneak away than a whole group. But those people also need some guidance.

Ellywick: And I don’t know these woods so well. I made a promise to a kid though, so… You seem like you know this area pretty well, orc.

Lazza: Yeah, I do. I just…

Defiance: Listen. I swear to you by my gods, I will catch up to you. But please, make sure that those people are safe. Can you do that for me?

Lazza: Yeah. Look, if we’re gonna have that much… If we’re gonna have all these folks here, they’re gonna need to be able to defend themselves. Doesn’t matter how much I bring ‘em through the forest or how good my tracking skills are in trying to get us away, we’re gonna have to defend ourselves eventually. So, uh… I guess I’m… We’re gonna need some weapons.

Defiance: Aye. Do you know of any of the nearby villages here? There might be a few blacksmiths, or, if you think that it would be wise, we could try to steal some from the orcs here, but I think that it might be a fool’s errand. We might just get ourselves killed.

Lazza: Well, uh...depends on how good you can make a… How good the rest of your distractions are. As far as they know, I’m still one of them.

Credence: So...I guess what I’m figuring here is that Lazza would try to… Is the keep completely locked down now, Sophie?

Sophie: Yeah, the keep is completely locked down, they’re preparing for seige. There’s one orc that’s running around outside right now, and...actually, hmm, I should’ve had you do this but I didn’t think of it. But since you all are going this route, make a retroactive perception check, probably just Defiance.

[DICE ROLLING]

Joe: Oh, just me? Oh, okay. Uh, 14.

Sophie: I think you saw this, then… You saw some shit fall. Because of your Guiding Bolt, when that got hit, that whole area got illuminated, and you saw the things, basically, that that orc was holding… He saw the light, and he leaned over a little bit and then he dropped ‘em and he got shot backwards by your Guiding Bolt. But some things were dropped off the battlements, and then there’s one orc running around outside too.

Joe: Alright.

Sophie: Trying to find a way in unsuccessfully.

Defiance: Well, at least we know where there might be a few weapons, at the very least.

Lazza: Where?

Defiance: I see you’ve got that nice big axe of yours… Over right by the battlement, I think there’s an orc outside and I think the one that I hit lost some of his stuff.

Lazza: Ah… Alright. Hey, gnome…you, uh—

Ellywick: [FIRMLY] I have a name! I have six!

Lazza: Ah...yeah… Uh...E-Ellywhistle? Is that it?

[RAUCOUS LAUGHTER]

Ellywick: It’s Ellywick!

[LAUGHTER CONTINUES]

Lazza: [EMBARRASSED] Uh… Okay, uh…

[INTERMISSION — INTERLUDING THEME MUSIC]

Sophie: What’s up, dungeoneers? This is Sophie Lastnameredacted here with your commercial break that I know is everyone’s favourite part of the episode, but we have to do it because I said so! I have got three things again that I wanna tell you about quick.

One is that we are offering real live advertising… [FUMBLES WORDS] slots on the show. I can talk. Um, real live advertising slots on the show. So if you have a podcast, or an Etsy shop, or a webcomic, or anything that you wanna get advertised, we can help you out! Slots start at just $5/episode, so they are pretty cheap and you can hit us up about that pretty much wherever you wanna contact us. We’re pretty easy to get a hold of. There’s information on your cover art.

Next thing I want to mention is our Patreon. We have three different levels currently. The first is a $1 level, where you get access to some bonus content; that includes pictures of the cast, that includes...how do you wanna say...stat sheets, that includes some character bios, some player bios, just some interesting stuff that we think it is… You know, it’s not needed, per se, to enjoy the show, but it’s cool if you’re into that sort of thing!

So at the $10 level, which is the next one up, you get early episodes. So basically you get the episodes a week early, no fuss, no muss, you’re just the first one at the water cooler to know about it.

And then at the $15/month level, you are basically part of our inner circle, our absolute best friends, and because you’re our best friends, we’re gonna send you gifts! Once or twice a year! Basically how it’s gonna go is starting in June, we’re gonna — all of our $15/month Patrons, we’re gonna send out gifts, and it could be anything! We’re looking at potentially some pride-themed colored dice, we’re looking at mugs with the show kind of logo on ‘em, the cover art, we’re looking at just all sorts of cool merch, maybe some dice towers. Maybe a cool custom dice bag or dice chest or something. I’m actually a carpenter as a hobby, so there’s a chance that — probably not this first time but there’s a chance that eventually you might get something made for you specifically by me! I might go to my shop and crank out a couple of cool rewards. So basically, we want to thank you for being a supporter at that level, at our highest level, and we’re gonna do everything we can to make sure you get what you want. We’re even gonna cover shipping.

So basically, our Patreon link, the web address for it is on your cover art. Go check that out and hopefully you decide to support us! Even $1/month, folks, that is 50¢/episode. This is queer content with good representation. I think it’s… We’re talking, like, hour-long episodes pretty much, more or less — sometimes more, sometimes less — but I think that that’s worth 50¢/episode. I really do. I know that certain people have caps and how much they support, how much money they contribute to art and stuff like that a month, but really, I think that just about most people can swing $1/month, 50¢/episode. So. You know, I want to encourage you to all go check that out and consider it!

The next thing I want to talk to you about, and I promise we’re almost done and then we’ll get back to the...well, not the dungeon, but the, how do you wanna say, orc encampment — is the transcription project we have going on right now. I can’t transcribe all this audio by myself. I’m not that good at audio transcription, I’m really slow, and it’s a huge problem when it takes me days and days and days and days and days to transcribe audio, because that means that I can’t get ahead on other stuff, and when I can’t get ahead on other stuff, like editing audio, we risk having to release episodes late. Which is a huge problem, especially when we’re asking for Patrons. So if you are interested in accessibility and disability advocacy and stuff like that… I shouldn’t say “disability advocacy.” I know not all d/Deaf people consider being d/Deaf a disability. I apologize for that. But my point is if you care about accessibility at all, for people who communicate different and for people who, you know, need a different accommodation in this audio medium, like… You can help us! Get in contact with me through our email and I will share the Google Drive folder with you, and you’ll get access to the episodes sometimes two or even three weeks early! Sometimes maybe even more! With the understanding that you are helping us make transcripts. And if you don’t live up to that, then I will remove you from the people that it’s shared with. I’m not messing around. Please don’t screw with me here, okay? I really… I hope we don’t have any problems, I hope we don’t have anyone who just wants the episodes early and doesn’t care about accessibility and stuff like that. But I do need some help. I can’t do this by myself. Like I said, I’m just not that great at it. And it’s not that hard! You know, the idea — at least, in my mind — is that it...if our episodes are an hour long and we have ten people contributing to it, each person needs to only transcribe six minutes of audio. That’s not that much! That’s so much better than me doing an hour! So if you’re interested in helping out and making this accessible, I would really appreciate it if you would get in contact with me. And, you know, you’ll have my respect and admiration for that.

So yeah! That’s about all I have to say today. Next episode is gonna drop, as always, in two weeks. So I will see you then. Check out our Patreon and let’s get back to the adventure!

[END INTERCESSION — INTERLUDING THEME MUSIC]

Lazza: A-alright, Ellywick. You, uh… [STAMMERING] You good in a fight…? You wanna help me take down that guy? While, uh, while Defiance here keeps making some, uh, some ruckus?

Ellywick: I, ah… Yeah! Sure.

Sophie: Okay! Uh…

[INDECIPHERABLE CROSSTALK AND LAUGHTER]

Sophie: Defiance first, I’m assuming you’ll go up and try to find whatever was dropped?

Joe: Yeah.

Sophie: Okay, so… You find a—

Credence: Wait, wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry, I’m confused. I thought that the orc who’s running around is near the stuff that got dropped.

Sophie: I was just gonna say that they’re kind of in two different areas. Because Defiance had to return from being over in that separate area. Does that make sense? So the area that Defiance shot that Bolt from was a little ways away from where you all are now.

Credence: Okay, but they shot the Bolt up at the keep at the battlement and the...like, directly underneath would be the orc trying to get in, right?

Sophie: Uh...yeah, I imagined it as a different section of the battlement. Like, the battlement goes all the way around the outside of the keep.

Credence: Right. Okay. Sorry, um, I thought you were trying to indicate that we’d have to attack that orc to get at those weapons.

Sophie: Noooo, yeah, there’s two separate things going on. Okay! So we’ll resolve Defiance’s first. Defiance, I assume you go over there?

Joe: Yeah.

Sophie: Do you wanna make a stealth roll or do you wanna just kind of…?

Joe: Ummm… Sure, yeah, yeah. [ROLLS DICE] Aw, that’s only a 12.

Sophie: Uhhhhh… Yeah, that beats an orc’s passing perception, actually, so—

Joe: Phew!

Sophie: Yeah, they are not great. We’ll say that that’s good enough.

Credence: [SASSILY/SARCASTICALLY] Excuse you. Not all orcs.

[SNICKERING]

Sophie: Yeah, well…

Credence: Oh wow.

Sophie: Yeah.

Credence: I just used those words.

[LAUGHING]

Sophie: Yeah. Um… [SIGHS] So you go over there and you find a, kind of embedded in the ground as it’s very heavy and it fell from a great distance, but there is a warhammer.

Joe: Nice! Oh, I… I offer just a quick prayer of thanks ‘cause I feel like this is an omen.

Sophie: [LAUGHS HEARTILY]

Joe: What?! One of my gods, their symbol is a warhammer!

Sophie: Oh, really? Okay.

Credence: That’s pretty rad.

Sophie: That is pretty rad. Okay, and then I’ll assume you kind of make your way back with that same level of stealth. And then, Lazza and Ellywick, you kind of go up to this kind of screeching, really nervous orc — oh, I’m sorry, Defiance, did you want to make more distractions or something? Like, what were you gonna do?

Joe: Um, well I was gonna do is… I can actually cast thaumaturgy again, do more of the tremors, but also cast Burning Hands on… Are the cages really the only really wooden things around here? Is there also maybe, like, a stack of firewood somewhere?

Sophie: Um… I think that you can kind of drag the wicker into a pile, and I think that’ll work.

Joe: Mmkay! I’ll do that then. Catch it on fire.

Sophie: Okay! Cool! You do that. And those are the distractions — there’s more tremors and there’s a fire. So, Ellywick and Lazza, you walk up to this big motherfucker of an orc — he’s actually not that big of a motherfucker, he’s kind of a scrawny fucker…

Credence: Well, question. Would we get… If we tried sneaking up, could we maybe get an ambush kind of thing?

Sophie: Yeah, sure, if you wanna make stealth rolls.

Credence: What do you think, Ellywick?

Mara: Yeah! Sure!

[INDECIPHERABLE CROSSTALK]

Credence: [ROLLS DICE]

Mara: I’ve got a plan otherwise that can incapacitate him, so...even if we don’t successfully sneak, I’ve got something planned. [ROLLS DICE]

Credence: Well, I got an 18, finally, so. [HUFFED LAUGHTER]

Joe: Niiiiiice!

Mara: Uuuuuum…!~ I got...a 20. Ayyy!

Sophie: Okay! Uh, yeah! I think that you two actually sneak up on this guy fairly well and get a surprise round of combat.

Credence: Noice.

Mara: Nooooice.

Sophie: So roll initiative just so I know who’s going first.

Mara: [ROLLS DICE]

Credence: Okay, and initiative is our d—

Sophie: D20?

Credence: Yeah, but it’s like, plus decks? [ROLLS DICE]

Mara: 9.

Credence: I got 21.

Mara: Nice!

Sophie: Okay. Cool. So Lazza goes first, and then Ellywick, and then it’ll be Lazza again ‘cause you’ll get a surprise round. But uh… Let’s, Lazza, why don’t you make your attack roll or do whatever you’re gonna do?

Credence: [BREATHES DEEPLY] Okay, um, so… I think...I think I’m just gonna do, um… Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out, like, do I rage yet? Or… You know.

Mara: [LAUGHS SOFTLY]

Credence: But I think I’m gonna just do a...two-handed battle-axe swing at this guy.

Sophie: Okay, cool.

Credence: Soooo, let’s see… [ROLLS DICE] And that’s a 9! That did not work.

Mara: You tap him on the head.

Sophie: Is that a 9 plus whatever you’re supposed to add?

Credence: Um, well, I got a 3 and then…

Sophie: Oh, okay.

Mara: Oof-a-doof-a!

Credence: And then I get a plus 6.

Sophie: Okay. So I think that attack doesn’t really work. Uh, I think it’s dark and you’re still nervous and you miss.

Credence: I probably — the tremors freaked me out again, and I’m just like [SHOUTS IN SURPRISE WITH LAZZA VOICE], you know?

Sophie: Okay, Ellywick?

Mara: Ellywick is going to cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, so…

Joe: Oh, God…

Mara: “A creature of my choice that I can see within range perceives everything as hilariously funny and falls into fits of laughter if this spell affects it. The target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or fall prone, becoming incapacitated and unable to stand for the duration.” So you have to beat...13! [ROLLS DICE AND LAUGHS EVILLY]

Sophie: Yeah, that is…

Joe: Christ…

Sophie: What is that, a 6 or an 8? That’s 6. That’s a 6, plus 0 — that does not pass. This orc goes from screaming to laughing in the most horrible noise you’ve ever heard as it falls prone and drops all its shit and is just, as the spell said, incapacitated.

Mara: [CACKLES] Ah… Oh, wait, so he dropped the shit?

Credence: Was he holding, like, a weapon?

Sophie: Yeah, yeah, we’ll say he dropped the longsword he was holding.

Mara: Um, can I...as part of this turn, try and grab it, or…?

Sophie: Yeah, sure.

Mara: Okay. Should I roll stealth?

Sophie: Just make a dex check. Sleight of Hand, I think.

Mara: Okay, Sleight of Hand, okay. [ROLLS DICE] 15!

[INDECIPHERABLE CROSSTALK]

Joe: That sword’s about as big as you are.

Sophie: Yeah.

Mara: [PROUDLY] Yeah. [LAUGHS]

Sophie: Yeah, that’s good enough. Okay, so you picked up this sword. What do you do?

Mara: I’m gonna stash it for now.

Sophie: Okay. And I think Lazza’s top of the order.

Credence: Okay, Lazza is now SCREAMING. And just points at—

[HEARTY LAUGHTER]

Credence: Just, like…

Lazza: [SCREAMING] What did you…?! What did you do?! What the hell are you?! [FRANTIC STAMMERING] What did you do?!

Ellywick: [SURPRISED] I can use magic!

Lazza: Oh, dear GOD!

[MORE LAUGHTER]

Ellywick: Thanks!

Lazza: [INDECIPHERABLE PANICKED FRAGMENTS] Can you make him stop?! It’s just, it’s terrifying!

Ellywick: I, ah, I mean… It’s kinda, if he’s gonna nut up and get over it at this point…

Joe: I mean, you could just kill him.

Ellywick: Yeah, that would probably be the easiest way would just be to strike him down.

Mara: And I think Ellywick’s kinda looking up at Lazza and just blinking, like, “Your move.”

Lazza: I just… Fuckin’ magic users.

Credence: And then she just swings her axe two-handed and just goes through this dude’s neck.

Sophie: Okay, I think that you have advantage on an attack roll.

Mara: Yeah, ‘cause he’s prone.

Credence: Yeah, ‘cause he’s prone. Okay. [ROLLS DICE] Good, ‘cause that was another FUCKING 3. [ROLLS DICE] And that is a 23!

[CHEERING AND WHOOPING]

Credence: So then I roll one D10 plus four?

Sophie: Yep!

Credence: Um… Lemme see here… [ROLLS DICE] Alright, I got a seven plus four, so 11.

Sophie: Yeah, you cleanly decapitate this orc.

Mara: I think Ellywick looks kind of horrified.

Sophie: And I think, probably, you do a cool Obi/Ani twirling your axe around first and then “HWAHHH!” with that.

Joe: Nice!

Credence: I think that with this, Lazza looks so much more relaxed.

Mara: Oh God!

Credence: After having cleanly — she’s full of this rage because she does not like magic all that much, ‘cause like… She’s just way more calm now that she’s just like… And there’s a little bit of blood spatter on her hands and maybe up on her face and she’s just kind of like, gives a slightly serene smile with her eyes looking off into the distance a little. [DESCENDS INTO LAUGHTER]

Mara: Ellywick just kinda looks up at Lazza and is like…

Ellywick: I…! I didn’t mean take his head off!

Lazza: Well it made me feel better. This guy was a jerk.

[RAUCOUS LAUGHTER]

Ellywick: Fair enough! Now what?

Lazza: Well, check his pockets.

Mara: Yeah, we check his pockets.

Sophie: You loot the body. We’ll say that you all find 6GP total, which you can split two ways or three ways depending on how you wanna be.

Mara: I mean, I don’t care.

Credence: I mean… That’s pocket change to Lazza, ‘cause she’s used to raiding a lot more than that.

[CROSSTALK]

Mara: So Ellywick’s gonna pocket that, then.

Sophie: Okay.

Credence: And we can divvy up all of our money later if we’re gonna use it. What else is on him?

Sophie: Well, there was the longsword that y’all already took… I think that’s probably about it. This was not exactly a well-equipped raider. I think Defiance returns to you all and you say whatever it is that you say.

Defiance: Well, it looks like the gods have smiled on the both of us! Got myself a nice warhammer, got — dear God, it’s as big as you are!

Ellywick: [SOFTLY, BUT WITH PASSION] Yeah! [REGULAR VOLUME] To be honest, I much prefer daggers, but uh… Here we are.

Sophie: So you all have an ethical dilemma now, which I believe you solved, but it’s time to shit or get off the pot with it — do you go after Kenway and the rest of the villagers or do you go down a different path, so to speak?

Mara: Ellywick does.

Joe: Yeah, I’ll say…

Defiance: Well, should we catch up with the villagers, then?

Ellywick: Yeah.

Lazza: Well...yeah.

Credence: And Lazza’s kinda like, she’s holding… She has a pouch around her neck that holds the stones she uses to commune with her ancestors. She’s holding it a little bit, fidgeting with it nervously and is like…

Sophie: I think there’s a chill wind blows as you’re fidgeting with these and trying to make you decision, and you hear some voices that have guided you well in your life that you typically feel rather compelled to follow, and all they say is, “Follow them.”

Mara: I think Ellywick kinda looks up at Lazza and says…

Ellywick: [CHEERFULLY] Come on, Llama!

Lazza: Okay, that’s...that’s fair.

[BURST OF LAUGHTER]

Lazza: Yeah. Okay. Alright. Fuck it, let’s do this!

Sophie: You all quickly make your escape and head down the dark wooded path, and before you catch up with the rest of the villagers, you see a familiar fresh face — and Kenway, as he smiles at you and says…

Kenway: [BEAMING] I knew you all wouldn’t let us down!

Sophie: Credits.

[CHEERING]

Mara: Yay, we did it!

Credence: We did it!

Joe: Yay!

Credence: And I got to decapitate somebody in the first episode!

Joe: Nice!

Mara: I got to use a really awesome spell that I’ve never used before! That was fun!

Credence: Yeah, and like, can you blame Lazza though for freaking the fuck out?

[OUTRO — THEME MUSIC]